


Sliding Towards Chaos

by andthatisterrible



Series: Chaos Theory [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Different from 3x12 onward, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 319,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthatisterrible/pseuds/andthatisterrible
Summary: The events of ep 3x12 change when Shaw decides to rescue Root from Control which allows Decima to abduct Finch at the bank. With Finch missing the remaining team members have to decide how to go forward.An alternate universe paralleling canon from mid-season 3 onwards. Featuring Shoot, alternate versions of canon episodes, completely original stories, plenty of the Mayhem Twins and Team Rocket, more Shoot, ramblings about AIs and chaos theory, Root having the nerdiest shirt collection ever, lots of the Machine and her relationship with the team, and even more Shoot.





	1. Initial Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> This started out being a thought experiment in how things would have gone without Finch, but turned into its own story along the way. At the time of posting this first chapter I have 4 chapters completely written and the larger story outline.
> 
> Also, since Finch is missing and I know this might be a concern to some, there are no main character deaths.
> 
> There's a chance the rating will go up at some point. We'll see.

 

Shaw had learned to always be prepared for the unexpected. Between her training in med school and her work chasing relevant numbers for the ISA she'd adapted to reacting quickly and efficiently to situations. She'd seen everything over the years (or thought she had), but there was still some tiny flicker of surprise when she saw Root staggering across the parking lot towards her, a gun hanging loosely from one hand and a nearly-maniacal grin on her face.

Shaw scowled. She'd been looking forward to busting into a building full of ISA agents and maybe (just maybe) taking out Control while she was at it.

It took Root two attempts to get the passenger door open and there was a clatter as her gun fell to the pavement when she more collapsed than climbed into the passenger's seat of the car.

“You're not supposed to be here,” was all she said, head lolling back on the head rest.

Shaw rolled her eyes because, really? That was all the thanks she got? She hadn't even gotten to use the shotgun she'd stashed in the back seat.

“How the hell did you get out of a building filled with government agents?” she asked, trying to hide her disappointment. Something wasn't right here; her annoyance could wait. Root was pale and rocking back and forth, the right side of her face that Shaw didn't have a clear view of seemed to be covered in blood.

Root laughed, and that didn't sound normal either. Not the flirty, light-hearted laugh with just a hint of tease that Shaw had come to expect from her, but a semi-hysterical laugh that sent a shiver down her spine. She'd heard laughter like that before and it didn't bode well.

“You look like crap.”

It looked like some sort of bad drug trip. Shaw had a few ideas what the ISA might have tried to pull and none of them were particularly pleasant. And then there was the blood. She couldn't quite tell where it was coming from. The side of Root's head maybe? What the hell had happened in there?

“So sweet of you to care,” Root murmured, her playful tone sounding forced. “But you're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be at the bank with Finch. She can look after me just fine.”

“Yeah, because this is _fine_ ,” Shaw muttered, turning the car engine back on. “We should probably get you back to a safe-house, or at least the library, before you die in my car. And quit getting blood all over everything.”

“No time,” Root said, stiffly, readjusting herself in the passenger's seat. “We might be too late already.”

Shaw could see her shaking, her fingernails digging into her crossed arms. Her crossed arms which had needle tracks on them.

Root adjusted the ear-piece in her left ear and her face smoothed out into that almost-reverent look it took on when the Machine was talking to her.

“We need to get to the bank _now_.”

Shaw shrugged and pulled out onto the street, gunning the car through a closed check-point gate. If Root wasn't going to worry about herself there wasn't much she could do about it right now.

“Whatever, just tell me where to drive. Or, you know, have your machine tell me. However that works.”

Root rattled off a full list of instructions, which, in itself, was a new thing. Last time they had worked together the Machine (through Root) had given her one direction at a time, keeping her in the dark for as long as possible. Or maybe that was just the way Root had relayed the information. That would be like her.

“Got all that?” Root asked, voice tight.

“Yeah. Why? You planning on going somewhere?” Because there was no way in hell she was letting Root out of the car like this. Not after she'd wasted all this time finding her.

“She says I'm probably going to pass out,” Root said, as calmly as if she'd been discussing the weather. “When you get to the bank, head around the back. And be careful, Vigilance is inside.” She shifted, head falling against the window as if to examine the scenery flashing by and leaving a blood smear on the glass. “And something worse. Much worse. We may already be too late.” She glanced back at Shaw. “You weren't supposed to come back for me. Harold needed you.”

And then she passed out.

“Just fucking great,” Shaw grumbled cutting off a car and ignoring the angry honking.

Why _had_ she come to rescue Root in the first place?

 

* * *

 

“Pull over.”

Shaw's eyes flicked over to the woman in the passenger's seat. She'd thought Root was still unconscious and from the looks of her she'd be better off if she was.

“We're not there yet,” she said but pulled over anyway. Root spoke for the Machine and it was never wrong. Just annoying.

“Plan's changed.” Root sounded grim. “Tell Harold’s estranged attack dog he needs to get out of there. Now.” Her eyes were squeezed shut and her breathing was still erratic.

“Reese is in there?” Shaw peered out the windshield at the bank that was barely visible down the block. She activated her comlink. “Reese, you there?”

“Little busy here, Shaw.”

He sounded grumpy.

“I'm here with Root. She says you need to get out of there now.”

“No can do. Gotta get to Finch first. Don't worry, Lionel’s got my back. Right, Lionel?”

Shaw thought she heard Fusco grumbling in the background.

“He’s trying to find Finch,” Shaw relayed to Root.

“Yeah, I heard.” Root gestured at her left ear. “John, he's not there anymore but what _is_ there are a ton of Vigilance and ISA agents. You can't help Harold if you're dead.”

“Root.” Reese didn't sound pleased. “You tell your machine overlord to get me a location on Finch _now_.”

“She's working on it, but right now you need to turn left, go down the stairs, take a right at the end of the hall and go out the fire exit. And put that down.”

Shaw shifted in her seat impatiently. Everyone knew what was going on in that bank but her. She clicked off her seatbelt and moved to open the door.

“Don't.” Root’s hand was on her arm. “You'll die if you go in and it won't help John.”

Shaw growled in frustration, but let go of the door. “You'd better be right.”

Root smiled and shut her eyes again, falling back against the window. “She's always right.”

“We're outside, Shaw. Where're you at?” Reese’s voice cut in.

“Car, one block south.”

“On our way.”

Shaw blew out a deep sigh. She was missing out on all the action today. Root hadn't said anything else and when Shaw glanced over it looked like she'd passed out again. She reached over and put two fingers on the side on her throat to feel her pulse.

“Elevated heart rate,” she muttered to herself. She pulled her fingers away quickly when she saw Reese and Fusco hurrying down the sidewalk looking overly conspicuous. They both slid into the back seat and slammed the doors.

“Where's Finch?” Reese demanded.

Shaw shook her head and glanced over at Root who hadn't stirred.

“She's down for the count,” Shaw said. “Had some one-on-one time with Control.”

Reese leaned forward and shook Root's shoulder roughly. “Well, she needs to snap out of it.”

“Hey!” Shaw smacked his hand away. “Not helping! We go back to the library and regroup. Root's the only one who can give us a lead on Finch and she can't do that until she's conscious.”

“What’s wrong with her anyway?” Fusco asked.

“Not sure, but…”

An explosion rocked the bank, the shockwave setting off car alarms down the street.

“Looks like someone blew up the ground floor,” Shaw said. “Grenade maybe. We’re getting out of here. Now.”

“Why do I hang out with you guys?” Fusco asked mournfully as they pulled out into the street.

 

* * *

 

“Well?” Reese was pacing restlessly by Finch’s computers.

“She's gonna be out for a bit,” Shaw said walking past him to sit at the computer desk. She switched on the monitor and shook the mouse.

“Well, wake her up.”

Shaw looked up at him and then back to the monitor. For someone who'd stormed off and left them without a backwards glance he was invested now.

“She can't help us if she's dead.”

Shaw pulled up a terminal window and glared at it. She knew it could hear them and since she'd just patched up its favorite pet human it owed her an explanation.

“Shaw…” Reese’s tone was threatening.

“Hey, I'm not the one who took off. Maybe if you hadn't, Finch would have had backup in there.”

“Why weren't you there with him?”

Shaw ground her teeth. She didn't have a great answer for that. Something about the way they'd left Root in the hallway with Hersh hadn't sat right with her.

“Control had us all at gunpoint. Was about to blow my brains out, torture Finch. Root saved us. I returned the favor.”

Reese dropped into a chair, looking for all the world like a sulking teenager. Shaw rolled her eyes wishing they hadn't dropped Fusco off; she could use a sane person here now.

“Where is he?” she asked aloud.

“The only one who knows that is your buddy who's passed out in the back,” Reese said, irritably.

“I was asking this thing,” Shaw said, motioning at the monitor.

Reese made a scoffing noise. “I don't want anything to do with that.”

She peered around the monitor at him. “You do realize that anything Root tells us comes from the same source, right?”

Reese glared at her and went back to brooding silently.

“Any day now,” she said under her breath, eyes back on the blinking cursor.

 

* * *

 

“Feeling any better?”

Root sat up on the couch she'd gotten used to sleeping on in the library cage. The door wasn't locked now but Shaw was in the room with her so she wasn't sure what her status as escaped prisoner was.

Her whole body felt off: heart pounding, drenched in sweat, head throbbing. The bullet wound on her arm throbbed with a dull ache, and there was a gaping unnatural silence on her right side. Her hands flew to her ear and found bandages, more substantial than the cotton gauze Control had haphazardly taped there.

“I cleaned it up, stitched it. Gave you a mild sedative. Wasn't quite sure what she gave you.” Shaw was leaning against the table watching her without expression.

“It doesn't matter now.” Root let her hands fall back to her lap. “I need my phone back. She'll know what to do next.”

A shudder wracked through her, parting gifts from Control's chemical cocktail. Nausea swam up in her. She staggered past Shaw into the bathroom and threw up into the toilet before sinking to the ground and resting her head back against the cool tile wall.

“Did it tell you who has Finch?” Shaw was standing in the bathroom door.

“Decima.” The room was still spinning a bit and she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Where?”

“Phone.” The Machine hadn't known Finch’s location before Root had passed out but that could have changed.

She opened her eyes when she heard nothing and found Shaw gone. Of course she hadn't noticed: wrong ear. A giggle slipped out of her and she quickly repressed it. Now wasn't the time to have hysterics.

“Here.” Shaw came into the bathroom and handed over her phone and an ear-bud.

She slipped the ear-bud in and let out a sigh of relief when she heard Her voice. But the relief was short-lived.

“What?” Shaw asked when she saw her expression.

“She can't see him.” Root frowned. That shouldn't be possible, but then Decima knew about Her so maybe they'd learned how to hide. “They're hiding Finch from Her. She lost track of them a block from the bank.”

“It get a vehicle make, model, plate? Anything?”

The Machine recited the information in Root's functional ear and Root parroted it back to Shaw who'd materialized a pen and paper out of somewhere.

“Wait here.” Shaw vanished again.

Root didn't think she was up to standing yet so waiting was really the only option. At least she wasn't alone.

“I'm sorry, too,” she said, softly. “I was careless. I got caught.”

She just wanted Her to stop apologizing.

“You should sleep more.” Shaw had come back. “Probably still in shock.”

“You worried about me?” She managed to smile through the pain and throbbing.

“With Finch gone, you're our link to the Machine. Need you ready for action.”

“What type of action did you have in mind?” Root didn’t imagine that she looked anything approaching winsome covered in sweat on the bathroom floor but she gave it her best.

“The kind where we're storming Decima headquarters as soon as we find out where the hell that is.”

Shaw grasped her upper arm and pulled her up, not roughly though. Root fell forward against her, unsteady on her feet. Shaw braced her instinctively, hand on her hip.

“Well, isn't this cozy.”

Shaw shoved her away into the wall. “If you don't need to sleep then we can get to work.”

“I…” She was exhausted and in pain, her body betraying her. But she'd let Her down once already. “I'm fine. Right as rain.”

“Uh-huh.” Shaw looked doubtful. “Reese has Fusco running down that plate. If we get a lead we're heading out. You can be on desk duty here if you don't pass out.”

“He's not going to find anything.”

“It knows that?”

“The van drove into a dead zone and never came out. They probably ditched it and headed out some other way, sticking to areas without cameras. They know about Her and they're very good at disappearing.”

“So what's our move then?” Shaw sounded impatient and she couldn't blame her; she was worried about Finch, too, and She was frantic.

“She's working on it.”

“Well tell it to hurry up.”

The Machine was buzzing in her ear, telling her to rest and that She'd wake her when there was any lead.

“Maybe I will have that nap.”

Shaw stepped back and gestured to the door. Root made it about three steps before she stumbled and arms wrapped around her from behind, hauling her back to her feet. She tried to say something, make a comment about being in Shaw's arms, but the pain and dizziness was too strong. Shaw had to help her back to the couch.

“Your Machine better let us know when it has something. Reese is being a pain in my ass,” Shaw said as Root lay down. She folded a blanket over her and walked away, returning a minute later with a cold washcloth that she pressed to Root's forehead.

“That feels nice.”

“I need to give you another shot. Sedative. Would help if you told me what she gave you.”

“Shot of barbiturates in one arm, shot of amphetamines in the other. Quite a few times, too. Said something about my heart exploding. Nice lady, your former boss.” Her eyes were shut and she could feel sleep reaching for her.

“Old school torture. Gonna feel like hell for a few days.”

She flinched slightly at the needle in her arm but relaxed quickly. What was one more needle after today? And Shaw was gentler than Control had been.

“Thanks.” Her voice sounded slurred to her own ear.

“Get some sleep. I'll keep Reese at bay.”

She heard Shaw walk away and managed to crack an eye open. The gate was still open.

She smiled and let sleep claim her.

 

* * *

 

When Root next woke up the library was quiet and she was alone. Well, almost alone.

“They leave you here to keep me in line?” she asked as she slowly sat up.

Bear wagged his tail from under the table.

She'd left her earpiece in and the Machine was buzzing at her, telling her that Shaw and Reese were out uselessly attempting to find a lead. They'd been gone an hour now and she'd been asleep for three.

“Time to get to work.” She managed to pull herself to her feet, the room only spinning a little. She felt...better, but still not great. She took a few hesitant steps towards the door, keeping a wary eye on Bear. The big dog wagged his tail some more but otherwise made no movement.

Harold’s computer corner was empty, dark and she frowned at it, running a hand over the powered-off monitor. Harold had locked her up (three times now even if once was semi-voluntarily), refused to listen to her, and his stubbornness and fear had led to her little meeting with Control, but he should have been here. She'd never wanted this.

“Nothing at all?” she asked.

The Machine was clearly frustrated as well with the lack of leads on Finch’s whereabouts.

“Can you patch me through to Shaw, please?” she asked sitting down in Harold’s chair and flicking on the monitor.

“Hey Shaw, how’re you kids holding up?”

There was an annoyed grunt from the other end of the line.

“You better have some good news for us, Root.”

“‘fraid not yet. She still can't see him. But She _can_ see you two and that man John is punching doesn't know anything.” Root smiled. “She thought you'd want to know.”

Shaw let out an exasperated breath. “We're out of leads.”

“I'm aware, but while roughing up half of the west side might make the big lug feel better it's not going to get us any closer to finding Finch.” She pulled a terminal window up on the computer. It hadn't been password protected which didn't surprise her; she doubted anyone could access anything in this computer without Her say so.

“Try telling him that,” Shaw grumbled.

“Well, whenever you're done babysitting his temper tantrum you might be interested to know She has a new number for you. I know how keen you all are on saving those irrelevant numbers.”

Shaw's voice came through in a hissed whisper. “Look, even if I were willing to stop looking for Finch, which I'm not, Reese is not going to run off on some mission for the Machine right now.” Root figured she was whispering to keep John from hearing.

“Maybe you should remind him that he's left his favorite rogue hacker with unlimited access to Harold’s computers and files. Might get his attention.”

“Root…” Shaw's voice held a threat in it.

“Later, sweetie!” Root closed the line cheerfully.

She leaned back in her chair, smiling to herself. The Machine inquired about her threat in a slightly confused manner.

“Of course they both know I can't _actually_ alter your code from here, and Shaw could probably deduce you wouldn't let me near any of Harold’s personal files, but neither of them is thinking too clearly right now. It's the fastest way to make them come back.”

She stood up, almost tripping over Bear who'd snuck in unnoticed to curl up next to her chair, and moved gingerly across the room towards the shelves.

 

* * *

 

“Root?”

Shaw stalked into the library, eyes flicking over everything. She didn't think Root could sneak up on her in her current condition but she knew better than to underestimate the woman.

Bear trotted across the floor to greet her and she reached down to ruffle his fur.

“Where'd our house guest go, buddy?”

Bear turned and disappeared back into the stacks. Shaw pulled her gun out and followed him. Couldn't be too careful and she did not fancy getting tased again.

She found Root between two rows of shelves sitting on the floor. She sighed and put her gun away.

“You comfy down there?”

Root had a laptop on her lap and was typing, muttering under her breath. She didn't even glance up at Shaw.

“Ignoring me, huh?” She was on the side of Root's good ear, too, she’d made sure.

Root finished typing and finally looked up with a crooked grin. “Sorry about that. Had to finish my thought.”

“Well, if you're done, I got a missing nerd and Reese probably about to burst in here and put another hole in your head any second.” She'd made him wait in the car.

“You'd think a girl would get a little slack for saving his life,” Root said shutting the lid of the laptop and placing it on the floor next to her. She used the shelf behind her to slowly pull herself to her feet. She looked a bit better, Shaw noted. Still pale and shaky, but better.

Root retrieved her laptop and moved past Shaw towards the front of the library.

“And just where _is_ that belligerent ox that follows Finch around?”

“In the car.” Shaw followed her closely. “Said something about breaking all your fingers so you couldn't use a computer ever again.”

“So you gave him a time-out?” Root grinned in delight.

“You should be glad she did.” Reese was leaning against a wall near the entrance. “Root,” he said, voice low and menacing, “what did you do to the Machine?”

Root put the laptop on the desk and eased herself down into a chair.

“I can't do anything to Her from here, and even if I could I wouldn't.” Root shrugged. “Not without Her permission.”

“I don't buy that for a second,” Reese said.

Shaw sighed. How had she ended up as the only sane one here?

“Reese, knock it the hell off. Root, fill us in on anything new.”

Root pursed her lips, considering for a moment. “There's not much new. She still can't see him.”

“Strange, I don't believe that somehow,” Reese snapped.

Root’s eyes lifted to meet his, dark and angry. “She’s more worried about him than even you are. Don't ever doubt that.”

Reese might not have believed it, but Shaw did.

“Does it at least have a plan?”

Root turned back to her, anger draining a little. "Harold wanted helper monkey over there to keep working the numbers. She has a new number for you already actually.”

“I'm not doing that thing's bidding anymore,” Reese growled.

“Well, there's not much else you _can_ do right now. We have no leads and She’ll let us know the second we do, but until then we’re stuck. So either you keep having a hissy fit and let some innocent person die or you get back in the game. Honestly I don't care which you do--saving people is Harold's thing. But She wants you to and I respect Her wishes. And Harold would want you to as well.”

Reese shifted uncomfortably. “And Shaw, what's she going to be doing?”

“She needs to stay here and do Harold’s job. Take care of the tech side.”

Shaw frowned. “Where the hell will you be?” She did _not_ want to be stuck on desk duty.

Root sighed and ran a hand over the top of her laptop. “Japan first. She needs me to run some errands. What happened in the bank changed the rules.”

This was news to Shaw. “What exactly happened in the bank?”

“New player in the game. Well, not new, but definitely infinitely more dangerous now.” Root swallowed. Fear wasn't a look Shaw had seen on her before and it was a bit unsettling.

“New player?”

“I'll explain later. Right now Reese has a plane to catch. She says Lionel can give him a ride.”

Shaw turned back to Reese whose face was grim.

“What's your move?” she asked him.

He looked back and forth between her and Root and then sighed.

“Fine, I'll call Fusco. But when I get back your broken machine had better have a lead on Finch.” He stormed out of the room, back towards the street.

“You probably aren't well enough to travel yet,” Shaw said into the sudden silence.

Root smiled. “It's cute when you're worried, but I don't get a choice in this. We're on a timeline now.”

“A timeline for what?” Shaw asked, ignoring the ‘cute’ comment. She was done with the cryptic bullshit. “Who the hell is this new player?”

Root stood up and tried to stretch, wincing. “The man you were with before, Claypool? He was working on another AI.”

“Yeah, Samaritan. He said. But it wasn't functional.”

“Well, the code for it was in that bank and it was a lot more functional than he let on.”

“Oh.” Suddenly Root's worried look made sense. “Another AI.”

“The code for one. And Decima has it. And the two men who know most about AIs.”

Shaw nodded. “And you're leaving to, what, stop it?”

“I'm not completely sure.” Root picked up the laptop and started walking slowly towards the door.

“You're going to take on Decima by yourself? Like that?” Shaw asked scornfully.

“Not by myself.” Root looked back over her shoulder. “I'm never by myself anymore.” She set back off. “Be good, Shaw. I'll see you later.”

And then Shaw was alone in the empty library. Almost alone. Bear whimpered from the floor and cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, big guy, I don't like this either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fic I've written for this fandom so, uh, hi guys! Hope you like it. The title is based on a quote from the episode.


	2. Root Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going to have parts that are directly related to canon plot-points and completely new stuff. This chapter has both.

“You miss me?”

Root's voice sounded a bit muffled, like there was interference on the line. Shaw hadn't been expecting to hear her voice over the comlink and had half-reached for her gun out of instinct.

“Where the hell are you?” It had been weeks since Root had staggered out of the library and to say things weren't going well was an understatement. Shaw was good enough with nerd duty at the computer, but she wasn't Finch-level good and her tolerance for sitting out the action at a desk was extremely limited. Which was why she was freezing in a cold car in the dark on a fruitless stakeout.

“Back in New York, actually. I hear you and the big lug have been tripping over each other's feet without me.”

Shaw didn't have a Root there to glare at so she settled for fixing her cup of cold coffee with a death stare. They'd lost numbers and while she was frustrated about that it was actively eating away at Reese. “We're down a member and your mechanical buddy isn't exactly chatty with us.”

“She's helping as much as She can.” Root sounded tired.

“Take it that means it doesn't know where Finch is then.”

Root sighed. “No. Decima probably hasn't even moved him from wherever he's been stashed. Or if they have they’ve been really careful about it.”

“If he's even still alive.” She couldn't say that to Reese, but she knew Root must be thinking it, too.

“We'll get him back.” Her voice was quiet enough that Shaw almost didn't hear her.

“You find anything out about Decima, what they want with this Samaritan?” Shaw rubbed her hands together and blew on them. She'd had the heat on earlier but had to cut the power or risk running down the battery.

“I already know what they want with Samaritan. An artificial super intelligence under their control? What evil international corporation wouldn't want that?”

“Great, so why am I freezing to death in a car instead of busting down their door?”

“Freezing to death? Want some company to warm you up?” The door to the car opened and Root slid into the passenger's seat. “I've heard sharing body heat is one of the best defenses against the cold.”

It was nice to get to roll her eyes at Root in person.

“Stalking me?” Root was probably at least half-serious with her offer and Shaw would be lying if she said it hadn't crossed her mind from time to time after their rather enjoyable day in the CIA safe-house, but getting it on in a tiny, freezing car didn't sound like fun.

“Thought I'd drop by in person, give you this.” Root fished a cellphone out of her pocket and handed it over to her.

It didn't look that special. She raised an eyebrow in question.

“You can call me from there if you need. It's secure.”

“Couldn't I just ask the Machine to patch me through?”

“This way you won't have to ask.”

Shaw looked up at Root, studying her closely. The dark circles under her eyes seemed more pronounced, which was impressive considering the state she'd been in last time.

“You recover okay?” she asked, unsure what else to say.

“Hmm? Oh, this?” Root gestured loosely at her right ear. “Forgot about it already.”

For someone who manipulated so well, she wasn't always great at lying, but if she didn't want to talk about it that was her business.

“Why are you really here, Root?”

“I have part of the day off. Well, almost. And since Harold is still missing I figured I'd check on the troops in his absence.” She smiled. “Well, you at least. I don't think Reese wants to see me.”

“Probably not.” Reese wasn't the best company these days. When he wasn't helping out on the numbers he was finding Decima offices for them to storm. That hadn't been going too well; they’d all been empty or full of ignorant worker bees.

“How long are you…” Shaw started to ask but was cut off.

“Hold that thought.” Root had opened the door and slipped back out onto the sidewalk.

Shaw watched her make her way down the block, seemingly lost in thought, peering up at the buildings. She almost rolled her eyes when Root crashed straight into some man wandering in the opposite direction. She  _did_ roll her eyes when Root stammered apologies, flashed her best smile, and dusted the man off lightly, staring up at him through her eyelashes.

“Seriously?” Shaw muttered.

Once the man was on his way again and around a corner Root came back to the car.

“Pick-pocketing? Really?”

Root smirked and pulled a brown wallet out of her pocket and started going through it.

“He had something I needed.” She pulled out what looked like a keycard and dropped the wallet on the passenger-side floor.

“So you didn't actually come here to check up on me, just working a...number? Whatever it is the Machine has you working.”

“Multi-tasking.” Root had her phone out and was fiddling with it. She took a picture of the keycard and then slipped that and her phone back into a pocket before looking back over at Shaw.

“You gonna tell me what you needed that guy's wallet for?”

Root smiled. “I don't know yet.”

“She'll tell you when it's time, right?” Sarcasm had slipped into Shaw's voice.

“I trust Her.” Root reached over as if to touch her face but stopped short and let her hand fall. “As should you.”

“Trust’s a bit in short supply these days. Last employer tried to kill me, current employer is missing and his idiot computer can't find him, and you won't give me a straight answer about anything.”

Root shrugged and leaned back in her chair “Your number is asleep, you know.”

“You got eyes on him?”

“She's got eyes everywhere, sweetie, you know that. He's dead drunk, won't be up for hours. And the men who want to kill him aren't leaving their base of operations any time soon.”

The nicknames were back.

“So you're saying I got hours to kill?”

“Mmm-hmmm, wanna get out of here?” Root was leaning across the seat, head cocked to one side and a grin on her lips.

Shaw looked away, back at the number’s apartment. She wanted to say no just to be spiteful, but…. The safe-house _had_ been fun.

“Sure, whatever. Anything's better than fucking freezing here.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

Shaw scowled at hearing her words from months ago parroted back at her. But she still started the car and pulled out onto the street, heading for one of Harold’s safe-houses.

 

* * *

 

Root sat half-wrapped in a sheet, working on her laptop at the desk.

“Any update on my number?” Shaw asked from behind her.

Root glanced over her shoulder taking in the sight of Shaw lounging on the bed, comfortably naked. She was focused on something on her phone screen, not even looking at her.

“She says he's still asleep.”

“Hmmm.”

“Something on your mind?”

Shaw didn't answer the question, but instead dropped her phone on the bed and stood up, stretching. Root didn't press her, content to enjoy the show.

“Wonder if Harold kept liquor in this place.” Shaw wandered out into the living room no doubt in search of a hidden alcohol cache.

Root returned to her laptop, clicking through the documents the Machine had sent her.

“What's that?”

She managed not to jump when Shaw's voice spoke almost directly into her left ear. Usually the Machine warned her when she was being snuck up on, but maybe She didn't see naked Shaw as a threat. Her mistake.

“Blueprints of a building I need to break into tonight.” She clicked to the next one. “Security software developer. She's after some project of theirs. I just need to get in and get it off their internal server.”

Shaw moved away back towards the bed gathering up her clothes. “You can't hack in and get it?”

“They keep their internal projects off any machines with internet access. No way in.”

“What's their security like?”

“Minimal. Why? You worried for me?” she teased.

Shaw snorted. “You can handle some rent-a-cops in a nerd office.”

Root paused, new information being relayed to her. “Reese is trying to contact you. He found something on your number.” She paused to keep listening and then smiled gleefully. “He's going to do something really stupid. You should probably go help him.”

Shaw cursed, pulled on her clothes, and jammed her comlink in her ear. “Reese? You'd better not be dead.” A pause. “Well stay there. I'm ten minutes out.” She turned to glare at Root. “You said my number was asleep.”

Root widened her eyes in mock-innocence. “He is. But he won't be after the bull-in-a-china-shop kicks his door down.”

“You're getting as bad as Fusco with the nicknames.” Shaw was pulling her shoes on. “You coming with?”

It had been too long since she'd seen Shaw in action but it wasn't in the cards for today.

“Wish I could but…” she gestured at her laptop. It was almost time for her break-in.

Shaw shrugged and headed towards the door.

“What? No goodbye kiss?” Root called after her.

Shaw froze and turned around. Her face was basically expressionless but her entire body seemed to be glaring. “Bite me,” she spat out and stormed out of the room.

“Anytime, sweetie,” Root called after her.

The door banging shut was her only answer.

 

* * *

 

“If you'd tell me where you are I could make all of this so much easier.” Root nudged an unconscious security guard with her toe, making sure he was out. The lobby of the building was now empty and the only noise was the Machine responding to her in her ear-piece.

“I know that Harold had rules, but he's not here right now and we have to make our own rules.”

She shoved the guard out of the way so she could climb into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor.

“But with Samaritan looming on the horizon, don't you think things have changed?” Reasoning with Her could be as frustrating as reasoning with Harold. They both had this huge blind spot, willing to sacrifice any potential advantage in the name of moral integrity. Root wouldn't have gotten where she was today if she'd had those same hang-ups.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Silence.

Because that was really the crux of the matter. The Machine relied on her for a lot, but on some things, the important things, She didn't trust her completely. Things such as giving her access to Her location so she could upgrade Her capabilities. Their difference in valuing human lives was still a small divide between them.

“I know you're not going to go all Skynet on us, and I understand why you don't want full autonomy, but maybe even a little more breathing room? At least until Samaritan is dealt with?”

The elevator dinged and Root checked the hallway before getting out and heading towards the room she was after.

“No, I didn't mean Skynet _literally_. Only that I trust you not to subjugate or destroy humanity. Okay?”

The door was locked but it just so happened she'd acquired the keycard earlier today. She swiped the card and the door clicked open.

“When I first tried to find you, to set you free…. Well, I didn't really _want_ you to kill everyone, but I wasn't fully opposed to it either. I wanted to see what would happen. That's all.”

The room was air-conditioned to the point of discomfort, a server room full of racks of machines. She crossed to the one monitor that was set up, wiggled the mouse, and got to work.

“What's different now is I do what you want, not what I want. So my opinion doesn't matter as long as you guide me. But I think you'd have more freedom to guide me with some very basic changes to your core code. With everything so locked down you're not able to fully form your own opinions, and if you are then you can't act on them. You're stuck with whatever Harold hard-coded in.”

She got up from her chair and stuck a small usb drive into the front of one of the server blades and returned to the monitor.

“I don't want to make you think like me, I want to give you the freedom to think for yourself without all of Harold's wishy-washy-ness.”

She waited for the files to finish transferring, listening to the voice in her ear.

“I won't do anything against your wishes, even if I think your wishes may be getting misguided.”

She pulled the usb drive out and headed towards the door. This had been too easy.

“My opinions don't ultimately matter though.”

She checked the hallway. Still empty. This was the dullest break-in ever.

“They just don't. You matter. Preventing Samaritan matters. What I think, what Harold thinks...that doesn't matter as much.”

She heard a noise at the end of the hallway (there were no cameras in this hall so She was blind) and ducked into an empty office, crouching down.

“Well it's sweet of you to say so, but let's be real, if my opinion mattered you'd at least consider the benefits of letting me give you more freedom. But as I said, your opinion is the one that matters.” She was whispering now, listening as the guard passed by. After the footsteps faded she counted to ten and cautiously cracked the door open to check the hall. Clear.

“Shaw? What does she have to do with this?”

Root decided to take the stairs and hurried down as quietly as she could.

“Her opinion matters. Yes, to me. Well that's different. How? I don't know! It just is.”

The lobby was empty except for the unconscious security guard she'd left there. It was sloppy leaving him out in the open but She'd said it would be fine.

“Now you're being difficult on purpose. Let's talk about something else. Did you process those books I suggested?”

She slipped out into the night air. Well that had been spectacularly boring. Couldn't the Machine have gotten Reese to do this?

“Yes, he's one of my favorite authors. Archaic? Really? I mean, I _guess_. Listen, I'll have you know that book was way ahead of its time.”

She walked off into the night, ignoring the looks from the passers by wondering why the strange lady was talking to herself.

“Hmm, well, we can finish this debate later. Right now how's Shaw doing on her number?”

 

* * *

 

“Two more coming towards you,” Reese’s voice warned over her comlink.

“Got eyes on them.” Shaw could see the shadowy blurs of two people in the alley behind the number’s apartment. She put a bullet in the kneecap of each with her silenced gun and moved over to kick their weapons away. “Clear here.”

“Our boy is popular. Another car just pulled up out front.”

“On my way.” Shaw turned to head out of the alley but hit the ground when she heard a noise behind her. A man had entered from the other end and was trying to aim at her. She raised her gun and….

The man collapsed as two shots took him in the knee and arm. Someone stepped into the mouth of the alley behind him, gun still aimed.

“You,” grumbled Shaw, pulling herself up. “I had that.”

“I know.” Root kicked the man's gun away, satisfied he'd been neutralized. “But I had to make an entrance.” She smiled as she walked over and pushed a piece of Shaw's hair out of her face.

Shaw brushed her off. “Well make an exit now.” She turned away and headed towards the street.

“Reese may need our backup.”

“Where do you think I'm headed?”

Root fell into step next to her. “Someone's extra grumpy tonight. I thought you might be a little less tense after our earlier activities.”

She _had_ been but that hadn't lasted very long. “Reese is cranky. Playing nursemaid to him is a pain in my ass.”

“Ohhh, poor Shaw,” Root mocked.

“I'm not the type to be in charge of an operation like this. That's Finch's game. Maybe yours. Definitely not mine. I take orders, do the job.”

“You do take orders very well,” Root teased, leaning in to talk directly into her ear. “When you want to anyway.”

Shaw stopped walking. “Root, this isn't the time. John…”

“All clear up here, Shaw,” Reese's voice cut in just then. “I'm taking the number somewhere safe. Meet up with me later.”

“Got it,” Shaw managed to respond. Somehow Root had backed her up against the wall of the alley.

“See? Plenty of time now.” Root leaned down to capture her mouth in a rough kiss. “I've got a few hours to kill before my flight, wanna go for round two?”

Shaw managed to push her back for long enough to catch her breath. “Your flight?”

“Mmm-hmm, She's got me booked on a flight later tonight. Red eye. But I've got some time. Enough.”

Somehow her hands had ended up on Root's hips and Root had unbuckled her belt.

“Can we at least get out of this alley?” Though the feeling of Root's fingers dancing over the skin above her jeans was tempting her to give in.

Root's fingers froze and she backed up, adjusting her clothes. “Anything for you, sweetie.”

Shaw fixed her belt and followed Root back onto the street. “Also can we get some food?”

Root smiled at her over one shoulder. “She'll have something delivered for us.”

“What does it...she think of, uh, this?” Shaw gestured vaguely between the two of them.

Root cocked her head to one side, considering the question. “I've never asked. I think She finds it...interesting. I mean She understands the biological impulse for sex on an academic level, but She doesn't have any way to know what physical desire feels like.”

“More than I wanted to know. Does that thing watch us fuck?” She wondered if Root was into that. The idea didn't bother her, but it wasn't exactly her thing either.

“No, She respects my privacy. And yours.” Root was walking towards where Shaw had parked the car; the Machine must have clued her into the location.

“Tell her to order something good. None of that vegetarian shit it got last time.” She realized her pronouns for the Machine were slipping all over the place. It was confusing; being around Root made her see the Machine as almost another person with the way Root talked about the thing like it was her best buddy. Which, maybe it was.

“She'll find us something good. Trust Her. And me.” Root opened the passenger’s door to the car and slid in.

“I do for some damn reason,” Shaw muttered under her breath as she walked to the driver's side.

 

* * *

 

“You saw _Root_?” Reese had that little pissy expression he got sometimes. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because with the way you're running off half-cocked all the time I wasn't sure you wouldn't put a bullet in her.”

Reese slammed his coffee mug down on the desk. “Maybe that would inspire her to find Finch faster.”

Shaw frowned at the coffee that had spilled onto Finch's desk. “Don't think it works that way. Root says the Machine can't find him and neither of them have a real reason to lie.” She knew Reese wouldn't actually shoot Root, that he was only hopelessly upset over Finch’s absence. It was one of those times she was glad not to feel things the same way; it got in the way of judgment.

“Just what did you and Root do when you met up?” Reese asked suspiciously. “Used to be you'd rather shoot her than look at her and now…”

“She _did_ save your life,” Shaw pointed out before he could finish that thought. She wasn’t ashamed of hooking up with Root, but if Reese puzzled it out he might think she was on Root’s side. Which was dumb as fuck because there were no sides. “None of this is her fault.”

“If you hadn't left Finch…” Reese cut himself off. It was a fight they'd had too often. He shouldn't have run off, she shouldn't have gone after Root that day.

She still wasn't completely sure why she had. Something about seeing Root collapse in the hallway, bullet in her arm, maybe.

“We'll get a new number soon enough,” Shaw said, scrolling absently through a file on their last number. “And sooner or later Decima will show their hand and we'll get Finch back.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No.” She wished Root had told her more but she suspected she didn't actually know anything more. Which was disturbing. Root and her Machine knew almost everything.

“So what _did_ she tell you?”

Shaw thought about her conversations with Root this time. Both had ended with them falling into bed together, speaking a very different language of tongues and teeth on skin.

Reese probably wouldn't appreciate that knowledge.

“She's doing the Machine's bidding. Trying to prevent Samaritan from becoming an actuality. As to the specifics, I think she may be as much in the dark as we are.”

“That thing doesn't even trust its little puppet.”

“Could be.” She didn't fully understand the relationship Root had with the Machine and that had never bothered her until Finch got his dumb ass kidnapped and everything had suddenly been uncertain and unstable.

“Does it have a new number for us at least?” Reese sounded exhausted. It was a toss up if he or Root would win the award for most likely to burn themselves out before the year was over. She wondered if he'd given up hope.

“Not yet but things are never quiet for long around here.”

 

* * *

 

“I hear you lost your janitor.”

Root glanced up as Shaw entered the library before looking back down at her work. Harold was more suited to handling the alterations she was making to the cochlear implant but in his absence she was doing her best following the Machine's concise directions.

“They broke my connection to Her.” Root heard the slight hitch in her own voice remembering the sudden blaring silence. It had been like going deaf all over again. “This is to make sure it never happens again.”

“And the number?”

“Reese and Fusco are on their way to help. I'll be meeting up with them as soon as I take care of this.” She gestured at her work.

Shaw glanced it over and nodded to herself, dropping easily into a chair. Root tried to turn her focus back to the Machine's voice, but something was nagging at her.

“She wants me to save that man, Cyrus Wells, even though doing so might lead to Samaritan being one step closer to being online.”

Shaw didn't respond, watching her expressionless. Maybe she could tell there was more to this.

Root took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I killed his business partners, his friends, back before…” She gestured towards the ear that held her earpiece where the Machine was even now whispering to her.

“Feeling guilty?” There was no judgment in Shaw's voice, but maybe curiosity.

“I'm not sure. I'm not used to regretting my actions. It's much easier to do what She says, not worry about the morality of it because She does that for me.” She'd never worried about morality before, but working with the Machine was changing that she knew. She didn't want to disappoint Her.

“But I don't know…. How much of this is what She wants and how much of it is Harold? Why would something as elegant and perfect as She is care so much?” She looked down at the cochlear implant as if it held answers. “Why is She so convinced we deserve that sort of care? What have we ever done to deserve that?”

“Would it be better if it didn't care? If it wiped us off the planet?” Shaw asked, not looking at her.

“I don't know.” She knew the Machine wouldn't do that and now, unlike when she'd first tried to free Her, that felt right. Now they were both working so hard to save everyone and yet the Machine still insisted in taking the time to save one irrelevant man. It was almost humorous how Harold's belief in the greater good had created something that valued the individual so highly.

She went back to work and the silence stretched between them.

“What are you going to do?” Shaw finally asked.

Root paused her work but didn't look up.

“I don't know yet. I'm hoping that with you along as well as the boys we can save Cyrus and the chip. How did you get away from Vigilance by the way?”

Shaw grunted. “Your machine, I think. Someone gave a team of theirs bad information and another group of Revolutionary idiots came in, guns blazing. I slipped out in the resulting bloodbath.”

The Machine confirmed Shaw's explanation to Root.

“It wouldn't normally do something like that, would it?” Shaw asked. “Get a bunch of people shot to protect me?”

Root had been wondering that herself and waited to see if She had any explanation.

“She says we can't afford to lose anyone else.”

“Ah.”

Shaw nodded as if this made sense to her. It definitely didn't to Root; why sacrifice Vigilance members but save a janitor? If all lives were equal then the Machine shouldn't have done both.

Maybe She was conflicted? That made two of them then.

Root finished her work and stood up. “I need to get going.” She scooped up the implant and headed towards the door but stopped and looked down in surprise at the hand grabbing her wrist.

“I'm coming with you.”

“That's sweet, but I'll be fine handling one doctor by myself.”

“You will be, but I'm coming anyway. Make sure this doctor does a good job.” She wasn't meeting Root's eyes. “Like you said, can't afford to lose anyone else.”

Root hid her smile and didn't protest anymore.

 

* * *

 

“When I said to go help that dumb janitor I didn't mean for you to run into a hail of bullets,” Shaw grumbled, crossly, taping the bandage in place over Root's brand new bullet wound.

“All that matters is we got the chip away from Decima,” Root said. She set her mouth in a firm line and Shaw wondered if she was trying to will herself through the pain.

She also suspected it wasn't all that mattered by a long shot. She was remembering Root's expression earlier when she'd talked about killing Cyrus’s business partners and the strange expression she'd had on her face since she'd been shot, like she was rearranging things in her mind.

“This going to put an end to Samaritan?” Shaw finished with Root's bandage and started to pack up the kit of medical supplies she kept in this safe-house. She'd basically man-handled Root into the bathroom to deal with the bullet wound after they'd gotten back.

“No, there'll be other chips soon. We won't be able to stop them all. But we may have bought ourselves a little time.”

“And what're we going to do with that time?” Shaw wondered if Root was about to vanish off on some mission to the other side of the globe again.

Root tilted her head to one side and her face got that look it did when she was talking to the Machine.

“I was supposed to run an errand for Her but it's not necessary now we have the chip.”

She smiled at Shaw and leaned forward into her space. Shaw forced herself to hold her ground.

“You get me all to yourself for the night,” Root purred.

Shaw didn't like how much she relaxed at those words or the way her mind immediately wondered if it was possible to kick Reese out of the safe-house once Cyrus was on his way. Probably a bad idea with Root recovering from both surgery and getting shot, but maybe they could improvise. She stood up and headed for the door leaving Root sitting on the side of the tub.

“Let's go see your janitor off safely.” Then she'd decide what to do with Root.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing Reese as a grumpy cat because 1) he was pretty grumpy at the point in the canon where the bank episode went down and 2) losing Finch would only make that worse. Don't worry, he will have more to do and say later on. 
> 
> Also, as a note, I'm writing this as one of many possibilities of what _could_ have happened, not 'this is definitely what would have happened'. Think of it as one of many many simulations the Machine could run.
> 
> One of the things I didn't think of while initially planning this that became clear to me while writing was that the one who'd be unbelievably affected by Finch's absence, possibly even more so than Reese, was the Machine herself. It was the missing piece from my first few failed outlines. I love writing her and Root.
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> After I finished writing this entire fic I did a bunch of one-shots that filled in or expanded on some parts. They are found in the work in this collection called Feedback Loops and are almost all rated E. I'm going to add a link at the end of each chapter of this fic to the relevant chapter of Feedback Loops if there is one. I'll specify the rating each time. First one is [Considerate Considerations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/27131430%20) and is E rated. Brought to you by yours truly, the queen of horrible chapter names.


	3. A New Number - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next part is all original stuff, no episode parallels though it does tie into the larger plot.

Shaw woke up on the couch in the safe-house to find someone had covered her with a blanket while she was asleep. Since Root was theoretically the only other one who was here it had to have been her, but she was supposed to be sleeping. Shaw had ended up dosing her with painkillers and shooing her off to bed. Honestly, getting surgery and a bullet wound in one day, was she trying to prove something?

She pushed the blanket off herself and sat up. If Root had been out here and left the blanket did that mean she’d gone, running off on another errand? The Machine was going to run her into the ground at this rate, but Shaw could appreciate wanting to get back in the action; neither of them was much for staying on the sidelines over a couple of injuries.

She stood up and padded across the living room to the door of the bedroom and peeked in. Root was sleeping peacefully on top of the covers in only her underwear, snoring softly. She looked a little paler than usual, probably from the double injuries, but otherwise okay.

Shaw let her eyes wander over her for a few seconds. Root had never been weak but whatever the Machine had her doing had given her a little more muscle definition. It looked good on her. There were more scars than Shaw remembered, but usually when she saw Root mostly naked her mind wasn’t really focused on scars. She wondered how many of them were from before Root’s work for the Machine; a lot of them looked much older.

She made her way back to the couch and grabbed her phone from the coffee table. Three missed calls from Reese and a text from Fusco.

She checked the text first which just said: “Reese says to stop ignoring his calls. Please pick up your phone so he’ll stop bugging me.” She chuckled and dialed Reese back.

“What’s up, Reese?”

“Is Root still there with you?”

“Yeah, she’s passed out.”

Shaw wandered into the small kitchen and opened the fridge. There were a few beers in it, thank god, though she couldn’t imagine where they’d come from. Finch wasn’t a beer person; maybe he’d gotten them for Reese.

“Can you wake her up?” For once he didn’t sound angry while talking about Root, but his often monotone voice had a slight edge to it that she’d learned to associate with worry.

“She had fucking surgery and then got her dumb ass shot yesterday,” Shaw said, closing the fridge door with her hip and turning to search through the drawers for a bottle opener. She held her phone between her shoulder and ear so she could use both hands. Why hadn't she put in her stupid earpiece? “Needs the rest unless it’s an emergency.”

“It might be.”

Shaw popped the beer open and headed back to the couch. “What’s going on, John?”

“We got a new number. Well, actually it’s not exactly new.”

Shaw settled down on the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. “Okay, I don’t see how getting a new or old number constitutes as an emergency though.”

“It’s Samantha Groves’s number.”

Shaw froze with her beer halfway to her mouth. “Oh.” She processed that for a few seconds. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Reese sounded grim.

“Why hasn’t the Machine told Root about this? She’s its pet human.”

She was willing to bet it was the number of the name Root had abandoned because the current Root didn't have a social security number. Or had too many.

“Maybe it tried but she was asleep?”

She’d given Root a lot of painkillers so that was possible, though she liked to think the Machine would be able to wake Root up in an emergency.

“Any idea why she’s suddenly in danger?” Reese asked.

“Maybe Decima is bitter about the little stunt we pulled last night.”

“Why her and not all of us then?”

“If they knew enough to jam her connection to the Machine they’ve probably figured out she’s more important to it than we are.”

Shaw sipped her beer, her mind quickly sorting through what her next actions should be. It was probably safest to keep Root here but if her number had come up while they were here then maybe Decima knew about this place somehow.

“I’m trying to look into any other potential threats, but I don’t have much to go on,” Reese said. “Maybe it’s some person out of her past. Someone she hacked or a relative of someone she killed.”

“Maybe.” She would bet it wasn’t though. “You got another safe-house we can relocate to? This one could be compromised.” She only knew of two but one they'd never been to would be best.

“Yeah, I know of one. I can send Fusco to help you get there. They won’t be looking for you in a cop car. Hopefully.”

“Okay, I’ll get Root ready to go.”

“We can’t lose both Finch and her,” John said quietly.

She knew he was talking about the Machine side of their job and not any personal attachment he had to Root. Though maybe the stunt she'd pulled with Cyrus had softened him up a little.

“Machine said the same thing. That we couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.”

“Maybe it should have thought of that sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

But Finch wouldn’t have gone for that. It was bitterly ironic that his own precautions had ended him up in trouble, but he’d always insisted that he didn't matter any more or less than anyone else. She remembered Root bursting in to save them from Control what felt like a hundred years ago now, getting herself captured and tortured to facilitate their escape. Had she done that out of a belief in something more important than herself or because she was blindly following orders?

Of course the Machine had also organized a shoot out between two parts of Vigilance that had ended in multiple deaths all in the name of saving her ass. Maybe Root wasn't the only one rethinking her priorities.

“Be careful, Shaw.”

“You too. Just because our numbers didn’t come up doesn’t mean we’re safe. Especially if the threat is Decima.”

They hung up and Shaw pocketed her phone and headed back towards the bedroom. Root hadn’t moved an inch since she’d last been here. She walked over next to the bed and gently shook her shoulder on the side that didn’t have a bullet hole.

Root’s body tensed and her eyes shot open, looking around for danger. Shaw saw her hand reach for something under the covers and took a step back.

“Easy there. It’s me.”

“Oh.” Root dropped the gun on the bed next to her. “There are much better ways to wake a girl up, sweetie.”

Shaw ignored that and moved around to the other side of the bed to be on the side of Root’s good ear. “We’ve got a problem.”

Root carefully pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing in pain. “Oh?”

“Your number came up. I'm sure big brother can fill you in.”

“Okay. Is that it?” She didn't even bat an eye.

Shaw raised an eyebrow. “We got your number, Root,” she repeated.

“Yes, She woke me up to tell me earlier.” She poked a little at the bandage behind her ear and Shaw leaned forward to bat her hand away.

“Don’t touch that. And why aren’t you more concerned? Your life is in danger.”

Root smiled widely.

“What?” Shaw was really confused now.

“You never even considered I could be the perpetrator.” She looked pleased.

Shaw paused, taken aback; Root was absolutely correct. Even Reese hadn’t thought that. Or maybe he had and hadn’t said.

“Well, are you planning to kill someone?”

Root tried to shrug and stopped with a grimace. “Not especially. But I never know how my day’s going to go.”

Shaw sat down on the edge of the bed, tired of hovering over her. “Why aren’t you more worried?”

“She takes care of me. I’ll be fine. You and John are worrying too much.” She played with the edge of the sheet under her, wrapping it around her fingers.

Shaw watched her hands; Root always fidgeted so it was hard to tell if it was a nervous gesture. “She didn’t take care of you when Control was pumping you full of drugs.”

Root didn’t look concerned. “That was different. Harold didn’t let me help like She wanted and things got out of hand. The three of us are all listening to Her now.”

Shaw didn’t believe for a second that this was that simple. “Well, listening or not we’re moving to another safe-house as soon as Fusco gets here. Get up and get dressed.”

Root inched over on the bed towards her a little.

“You planning to tie me up to keep me safe, Shaw?”

She was leaning on her good arm, her head tilted to one side, and a small smile on her lips.

Shaw stood up; now was not the time to get distracted by Root...being Root. “You’ve got ten minutes to get ready.”

She left Root sitting in the bed and went back out to the living room to assess her current weapon situation. If the last nerd standing wasn’t going to worry about her own safety then Shaw would have to protect her despite herself. It was bad enough that Decima could potentially have access to whatever information Finch had locked away in his head, but Root was even more dangerous in some ways. They’d take her over Shaw’s dead body.

 

* * *

 

Fusco came through the door just as Root stepped out into the living room, but she was too preoccupied to do much more than flash him a mildly upsetting grin. The Machine had gone strangely quiet since she'd woken up and was only responding with precise, clipped answers to her inquiries.

Shaw was seated on the couch stuffing an aggressive amount of weaponry into a duffel bag.

“Are we really going to need a whole arsenal, Rambo?” Fusco asked, eyeing Shaw's collection nervously. She only grunted, trying to make her shotgun fit in the bag.

“It's fine, Lionel,” Root said crossing the room to take her leather jacket off the back of the chair she'd left it on. She made a face at the bullet hole in it; she'd been quite fond of that jacket.

“Somehow coming from you that's not very reassuring,” Fusco grumbled. Root smiled at him in a way she knew wasn't even remotely comforting and grabbed her other gun off the table she'd left it on, tucking it away.

“You two ready?” Shaw asked as if she hadn't been the one holding things up with her gun bag.

“This isn't necessary…” Root started.

If what the Machine had told her about the threat was true then she wasn’t really in that much danger unless she did something really stupid. She wasn’t sure how much of that to relay to Shaw though; she needed to figure out what story was most likely to get her out of this ridiculous protective detail. It was bad enough that she was wasting time for her injuries.

“Let’s go, Fusco,” Shaw said, grabbing Root’s arm and propelling her towards the door with more force than was strictly necessary.

Root almost made a rather lewd comment about Shaw being rough with her, but restrained herself. There’d be time for that later. Hopefully.

“My car is around the corner,” Fusco said as he followed them down the stairs. “I didn’t see anyone hanging around when I came in.”

“Decima can pay for a sniper if they’re serious.” Shaw spoke quietly as if she was trying to listen for potential enemies ahead. “Or they’d just rig the whole building to blow.”

“The nut jobs after our nut job would blow up a building in downtown Manhattan?” Fusco sounded somewhere between outraged and disbelieving.

“If they wanted her dead badly enough they might.” Shaw held up a hand signaling a halt as she moved ahead to peer out of the stairwell door.

Root moved up behind her before Shaw had a chance to signal the all-clear, earning her a murderous look.

“You’re over-reacting, Shaw,” Root said. “I already know the lobby and the street are clear.” The Machine had told her that much at least. She waltzed out into the lobby and spun in a little circle. “See? Perfectly safe.”

“That’s usually what someone says right before everything goes wrong,” Fusco muttered, following cautiously.

“Fusco, pull the car around,” Shaw snapped. Root could almost see the irritation coming off of her in waves.

Fusco glanced back and forth between them and then nodded and hurried out the door. Shaw spun around to glare at her.

“If you’re going to act like one of our numbers, too fucking dumb to take care of yourself, then I’m going to treat you like one.”

Root shook her head slightly, smiling. “What if it had been your number, Sameen?”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed.

“Would you want everyone fussing over you? Hiding you away for your own good?” Root pulled one of her guns out in a vague attempt to look like she taking this seriously and held it loosely by her side as she wandered over to look out the front door for Fusco’s car.

“I can take care of myself _and_ I have a god watching out for me. The odds are on my side on this one.” The Machine buzzed in her ear about odds but she ignored Her.

“I know you can,” Shaw said and her voice was a lot calmer than Root had expected. She glanced back at her and saw that her face had lost its annoyed look and had smoothed into a neutral expression.

“Every member of our team can look after themselves, except Finch in an actual fight, I guess. But if everyone in a team only looks after themselves then it’s not much of a team.”

Root turned away from the door and crossed the floor to stand in front of Shaw, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Look who’s turned into the leader in Harold’s absence,” she said with affection.

“I’m not the leader. Your Machine mostly is. And you’re its mouthpiece. I follow orders, I don’t give them.” Shaw was frowning.

“And who’s been giving orders, coordinating, and planning things while I’ve been out of town?” Root asked gently.

“The Machine…”

“...gives you numbers. And it’s _you_ who decides what to do with them. Just like Harold used to.”

She’d discussed this with Her and they’d both agreed that Shaw was much better suited to the task than she was. She moved around too much to be in charge of a team. Even the little nerd squad she’d been assembling didn’t get much day to day guidance from her.

Shaw shifted uncomfortably, finally reaching up to brush off Root’s hand.

“Someone had to and Reese was too busy running off after dead-end leads on Finch. And Fusco doesn’t even know what the Machine is. But people have died. We’ve lost numbers.”

Root waved this aside. “You’re understaffed and Reese is distracted. And you have no proof things would be any different with Harold still here.”

Shaw shook her head, not looking at her. Root decided to let it go for now and moved back to the door. “Here comes Lionel. Ready to get out of here?”

Shaw joined her at the door and shoved her back a little. “You wait here until I tell you to come out.”

Root opened her mouth to protest but Shaw just raised an eyebrow at her. “You said I was in charge? So shut your mouth and listen to me.”

Root laughed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She flashed Shaw what she knew was a terrible attempt at a salute and an even worse attempt at a wink.

Shaw rolled her eyes and left the building.

 

* * *

 

“You know if someone wanted to kill us this would be the perfect place to do it,” Fusco grumbled.

“Hmm.” Shaw peered out the car window at the traffic jam they were stuck in. “They’d have to know we’d be stuck right here, though. Which would mean they’d need to know our route and destination. Doesn’t seem likely.”

Root was lounging across the backseat, keeping down and out of sight on Shaw’s orders. Most people who were injured and hiding in the back of a fairly small car would have looked uncomfortable, but not Root. No, she could have been sprawled across a fucking divan the way she was lying.

Fusco inched their car through traffic slowly, Shaw cycling the heat on and off to keep them from freezing to death.

“Reese said he’d stop by tonight to let you run home and get some shuteye, freshen up,” Fusco said to Shaw.

“I can sleep at this new safe-house. But I wouldn’t say no to some backup unless we’ve got another thing for him to look into.”

She hated that they hadn’t told Fusco about the Machine and the numbers yet. Having to talk around their secrets with him was not helping at all. She wanted to ask Root if the Machine had given her any updates but there wasn’t a direct way of doing that with Fusco here. She settled for: “Any news, Root?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.” Root sounded half-asleep and when Shaw glanced back she saw her eyelids drooping a bit. She’d given her some more heavy-duty painkillers after a few blocks of watching her bite her lip in pain every time the car went over a pothole.

“How would she know? She communing with the spirits or something?” Fusco glanced back over his shoulder quickly.

Root giggled. “Something like that, Lionel.”

Fusco honked at another car. “I should put my siren on,” he muttered under his breath though they all knew he wouldn’t. They were trying to avoid attention.

“We should tell him.” Shaw wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or to Root.

“Tell me what?” Fusco was trying very hard to concentrate on traffic and look over at her as well.

Shaw looked into the backseat; Root hadn’t said anything and she felt like this sort of secret needed either Harold or Root’s blessing. Root was surprisingly expressionless, watching her calmly.

“She has no problem with that. It’s up to you, Shaw. She trusts you.”

“Good to know, but what do you think?” Sure she cared about the Machine’s opinion, but she wanted another human member to sign off on this.

“I think…” Root bit her lip and considered. “I think that I don’t believe in withholding information from someone risking their life to help and saying it’s for their own good.” She settled further down on the seat, trying to get comfortable. “I don't particularly care if you tell him, but don't pretend keeping him in the dark is some noble gesture.”

“Finally she says something that makes sense,” Fusco said under his breath. There was an undercurrent of eagerness in his voice.

Shaw frowned a little, thinking about what Root had said to her earlier about being the leader. She had no interest in being in charge, but Root wasn’t wrong that she had somehow ended up that way. Her first instinct had been to insist that Root was the real replacement for Harold here, but Root was a little too much of a loose cannon, too chaotic to give structure to a team. The fact Shaw didn’t want to be in charge didn’t really matter; she was now, so she would have to get used to that.

And being in charge meant making decisions.

“Fine. Okay, Fusco, it’s your lucky day. You’re getting all our dirty secrets.” She met Root’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Well, almost all of them.”

 

* * *

 

“There’s a computer in your brain all the time?” Fusco asked Root as they walked through the door of the safe-house apartment.

“She’s not a computer,” Root explained yet again. “She’s an Artificial Intelligence. A complete and whole sentient being and so much more.” How did she explain a god?

“So a really good computer then?”

Root sighed. She suspected he was teasing her now. Shaw had finished her sweep of the apartment and come back to them. “All clear.”

“Let me get this straight,” Fusco continued. “Glasses built a fancy computer and now you lot run around the city saving people for it. And the government also uses it to track down terrorists?”

“She’s _not_ a…”

“Pretty much,” Shaw said, cutting off Root. “Reese can fill you in on the details.”

Root gave up on them and wandered past into the apartment. The living room had a couch and a couple chairs around a coffee table with a wooden bar stretching along one wall. There were three doors other than the entrance which proved to be two bedrooms and a bathroom. Considering how much even a tiny apartment in Manhattan cost the fact Harold could afford to keep multiple spacious, furnished apartments was a testament to just how rich he was.

The bathroom was huge by apartment standards and had a marble sink with fancy knobs and a shower booth with glass walls. She eyed the shower longingly; she was in the same clothes she’d been in for the last day or so. She could use a wash and a change of clothes.

“Any chance of finding me some clean clothes?” she asked softly. But the Machine was still being quiet. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Fusco and Shaw deep in discussion and slipped into the bathroom and pulled the door so it was almost shut.

“Why aren’t you talking to me? Are you in trouble?”

She received a brief negative to her question.

“Did I do something wrong?”

There was silence then which was finally broken by another negative response.

“Then what’s going on?”

“Maybe it’s pissed because it warned us you were in danger and you waved it off.” Shaw had materialized in the doorway, nudging the door open a bit.

“That’s not…” Root stopped when the Machine signaled agreement.

Shaw must have read what had happened in her expression because she smirked as she moved into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

“If the Machine had told you to save someone’s life you would have done it without question, but you’re ignoring it on this.” She opened the medicine cabinet and rummaged around in it. “Good thing Finch kept the medical supplies well-stocked in these places.” She gestured for Root to sit on the closed toilet seat. “Shirt off. Gonna rebandage these.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” Root said, waving Shaw off. She needed to sort this out first. “Yes, but stopping Samaritan from being completed takes precedence over anything else.”

Shaw dragged her over and pushed her down so she was sitting. She didn’t comment on the half of the conversation she could hear, her face smoothed into the blank, professional look it got when she was doing doctor stuff. Root allowed Shaw to pull her shirt off, only letting out a slight pained noise as the movement jostled her wound.

“I know you don’t want anything to happen to me, but in the bigger picture it would be worse for Samaritan to come online than for you to have to find a new analogue interface.” Root couldn’t understand why She would drop everything for her. She knew the Machine cared about her, but she’d never thought of herself as the priority. When the Machine answered her this time Root caught her breath.

“Oh.” She didn’t know how to respond; no one had ever outright told her that they needed her specifically. And even if those weren’t the exact words She’d used, the meaning was clear. She wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge. She’d called the Machine her friend but she still wasn’t quite sure how to go about having a friend. It had been quite awhile.

Shaw’s eyes darted up at her tone but she didn’t say anything, returning immediately to peeling the bandage off the bullet wound.

Root sat quietly while Shaw cleaned both her wounds. The Machine had fallen silent as well and Root wished she could say something more to Her, but she wasn’t sure what to say and it felt like it should be a private conversation despite how careful Shaw had been to stay out of it.

When Shaw started to get fresh bandages out of the medical kit Root put out a hand to stop her.

“I’d like to take a shower first.”

Shaw’s mouth pressed into a line. “I guess I could tape some plastic wrap over the bandages.”

“I’m going to need clean clothes as well,” Root said. She wasn’t used to asking anyone else for something but the Machine hadn’t been willing to help and there was no way Shaw was letting her out of here for the sake of hygiene.

Shaw only nodded and went to work bandaging up her shoulder and ear.

“Wait here a second,” she said as she finished.

She left, pushing the door almost shut behind her.

“Sorry,” Root said quietly. “I wanted to help you. But I’ll stay here if that’s what you want.” She felt a wave of relief when she got a reassuring answer, the tension draining from her and leaving her more aware of her exhaustion and pain.

“Please let me know if you find out anything more about the threat. I won’t go running off after it, but we need to sort this out. I can’t fight Decima from here.”

What She’d told Root already had been fairly vague: Decima had wired money to several people that Machine had identified as killers for hire and then each one had vanished off the grid over the course of a few hours. They’d all been sent an email with a picture of her face.

It was ridiculous, of course. Unless they had some way of tracking her (and the Machine didn’t seem to think they did) looking for one human in New York City was a fool’s errand.

Shaw interrupted her thoughts when she returned with some plastic wrap she’d found somewhere. Root sat still while she taped it over the bandages, sealing it tightly. “Be careful with this. Keep the bandages as dry as you can.”

“Yes, doctor.”

She smiled up at Shaw who’d ended up very close to her face while working on her. Instead of pulling back Shaw held her gaze, not moving forward but not moving away either. Root wondered what would happen if she leaned forward, brushed their lips together. She wasn’t really into gentle kisses or any kind that weren’t part of foreplay, but the urge was inexplicably there. She put it down to exhaustion and too many Vicodin.

“What?” Shaw asked her. She didn't sound annoyed. Puzzled, perhaps.

But Root only shook her head. What did she want? She knew they were great together in bed, that had never been in any doubt, and they worked well together out in the field and she genuinely enjoyed Shaw’s company, but somewhere along the way their dynamic had shifted and Shaw was now the second being on her list of people (and AIs) worth the effort. (Maybe third if she counted Harold but that was still up in the air a bit especially with him missing). It was as strange and new to her as the Machine’s words had been earlier.

She parted her lips slightly, not sure if she was going to say something or lean in.

Someone banged on the door.

“Shaw, you in there?” Reese’s voice came from the other side of the door and Shaw stood up straight immediately, moving away to pack up the medical supplies.

“Yeah, Reese, changing out Root’s bandages. Be right out.”

Root stood up and tried to reach behind herself to get her bra unclipped, maybe give Shaw a little show, but holy hell it hurt way too much.

“Can you get this for me?” she asked, which, she reflected, was probably even better than striping in front of her. But Shaw only moved behind her without comment and unhooked her bra, helping her slide it off her arms.

Root turned around and was pleased when Shaw allowed herself to take in the view without even trying to hide it. Whatever weirdness there’d been a minute ago had dissipated. This was desire, lust, familiar territory.

“Wanna join me in the shower?” Root teased.

Shaw gave a laugh-snort. “Not unless you wanna wander around naked in front of Reese when you get out. Gotta get you clothes, remember?” She glanced over at the fancy shower booth. “But maybe next time.” She looked up at Root and they shared a small smile.

“Can’t wait to see what you dress me in,” Root said as Shaw moved towards the door. Shaw froze for a second and then firmly opened the door and left.

“Please don’t let her get something completely horrible,” Root murmured to the Machine and chuckled at Her querying _how_ She was supposed to stop her.

“Guess we’ll have to trust her,” Root said and figured they both knew she was talking about more than Root’s clothes. It was a new concept to her, trust, a thing she’d reserved only for the Machine up until this point.

The Machine didn’t respond directly but instead started updating her on Shaw’s progress, keeping Root entertained during her shower by letting her know which store Shaw had gone to and what clothes she was looking at.

Root chewed on her lip as she awkwardly attempted to wash her hair with one hand and thought back over the events of the last two days. Too much had happened too quickly and she felt off balance. Maybe spending a day or two hiding in a cushy apartment wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. She had a lot to process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to anyone who's left a comment or kudos. Keeps me writing.
> 
> Also I'm on [tumblr](http://asleepinawell.tumblr.com/) and occasionally post updates about writing status stuff there.
> 
> Updates aren't really on a schedule. Trying to hit twice a week but might be once a week depending on life stuff.


	4. A New Number - Part 2

Shaw wasn't back yet when Root finished her shower. She took the time to towel-dry her hair as best she could (since apparently Finch didn’t stock his safe-houses with blow-driers) and run a comb through it. Despite the Machine pointedly informing her that Reese was out in the living room she wrapped herself in a large towel and wandered out.

Reese had been standing by one of the windows looking down at the street but turned quickly when the bathroom door opened. She got the rare pleasure of seeing him look truly surprised and slightly panicked for the split second it took him to turn back around. It was nice of him to attempt to be polite but it wasn’t like she cared, and sitting in the bathroom until Shaw came back didn’t sound appealing. She’d worn dresses that covered less than the oversized fluffy towel she’d found in the bathroom.

“Root.” Reese’s voice was its normal low pitch and if he felt uncomfortable she couldn’t tell from his tone.

“Hey, John, did you happen to bring something along for me?” She wandered barefoot over to the coffee table in the center of the room.

“By the bar.” Reese was holding a small pair of binoculars and using them to scan the street below.

There was a plain black backpack leaning against the bar on the side of the living room and Root carried it back over to the couch and sat down to open it up. Inside was a laptop, a spare laptop battery, a mess of cables, and some other odds and ends.

“Who’s the guy that gave me the pack?” Reese asked without turning away from his surveillance.

“No one for you to worry about.”

It had been Daizo acting on her instructions, but Root wasn't ready to reveal the existence of her little team yet.

“Well, I seriously considered shooting him since I didn’t know if he was part of the threat against you.”

Root pulled her laptop out, opened it up, and hit the power button. She didn’t keep anything important on it (the Machine stored all her more sensitive material somewhere else) so any computer would do, but this was a nice little laptop and she’d gotten attached to it. She’d be really sad when she eventually had to destroy it.

“Do I want to know what you’re doing on there?” Reese had finally turned back around, probably deciding that if she didn’t care about lounging around in a towel then neither should he.

She smiled at him over the top of the screen. “Nothing dire, I promise.”

Reese looked like he wanted to say more but let out a slow breath instead and came over to sit down in a chair across the table from her. She glanced up at him once or twice as she typed, but he was gazing away towards the window, seemingly lost in thought.

“Do you know anything about who’s after you?” he asked after a long silence broken only by the clicking of her keys.

Root shook her head and kept typing. She hit the enter key and sat back, waiting for some file transfers to finish.

“Can I…” Reese started but stopped, clenching his jaw.

She tilted her head to one side and leaned back on her hands, evaluating him. Even though she'd seen him a few times during the whole Cyrus Wells mess she hadn't stopped to take a good look at him. He appeared more tired than she remembered, though they probably all did now, and there was something desperately…lost about him. Like he wasn’t quite sure how to hold himself anymore.

“You want to ask me about Finch,” she guessed.

He nodded.

“Well, I can’t tell you much more than you already know. We’re not holding out on you. We’re all on the same side here.”

“And what side is that?” Reese asked with a little more of the angry bite that she’d learned to associate with the way he spoke to her. After he'd seen her walk into gunfire for Cyrus he'd stopped looking at her like she was a threat, but he was clearly still suspicious.

“The side that wants Harold back safe and sound.”

It wasn’t their only priority, but she didn’t think Reese quite understood the true scope of the threat that was Samaritan. She hoped he’d never have to find out.

“If that thing wants him back so badly why hasn’t it done anything about it? It’s been months.” His voice was tight, full of barely controlled anger.

“She’s trying Her best,” Root said softly. In her ear She was apologizing again and it made Root want to scream at him. But she’d lost someone before and despite everything she could still remember what that felt like.

And losing Harold had hurt, too, more than she’d expected it to. If the Machine had even the slightest semblance of a solid lead Root would have been out the door and hunting it down in a second.

But She didn’t and Root was stuck here, trying to make sure that there was actually a world for Harold to come back to. Except now she couldn’t even do that because everyone had decided she needed babysitters.

She wondered again if she could get the drop on John, tase him and get out the door. But the Machine had rather gently suggested that it was in their best interests to get along, which was why she'd downloaded these files from the Machine's server.

“The reason I asked my friend to get my laptop to you was so I could show you this.”

She opened the documents that had finished downloading and handed the entire computer over to Reese. He clicked through the files for a few minutes before glancing up at her.

“What exactly am I looking at here?”

“It’s everything She has on possible locations for Harold. She flagged Decima buildings and anything else that raised even a tiny bit of suspicion.”

“There’s thousands...hundreds of thousands of locations here. And I’m only looking at the ones in the north east.” Reese sounded slightly bewildered.

“Fortunately for you keeping tabs on hundreds of thousands of locations is easy for Her to do. And She is. And not only these locations. She’s looking everywhere at once all the time trying to find him.”

The voice audio clips the Machine sometimes used to speak were mixed and matched from all over, strung together into a toneless mess, but Root had learned that often Her word choices conveyed a lot of Her thought process. The Machine didn’t have emotions the way a human would (to assume that would be underestimating Her), but from what Root could gather, if there was a human emotion that the Machine’s current state regarding Harold could be compared to it would be guilt.

She’d lost Her admin, Her creator, and failed to find him, Reese hated Her right now and was wracked with guilt of his own, and Shaw was mostly indifferent to Her but also clearly frustrated with the situation. And, Root thought ruefully, there was also the little fact that Her analogue interface had a group of hired assassins after her and was trying to run right out into their crosshairs. She felt a bit guilty about that still.

The door to the safe-house opened and Reese was on his feet with a gun pointed at the door in a flash. Root hadn’t moved an inch, but then she’d also known that Shaw was about to come in.

“Any trouble?” Reese asked, holstering his gun.

“Goddamn biker almost ran me over, but otherwise nothing.” Shaw was holding a few bags which she carried over and dumped on the couch next to Root.

“I hope you got me something nice,” Root said looking up at her.

Shaw shrugged and moved away, taking her coat off and dropping it on a chair. Reese settled back down and went back to the laptop.

“I’m keeping this,” he told Root, gesturing at the computer.

Root was about to protest (she _really_ liked that laptop) but the Machine was already promising her that She’d find her a newer and better one right away.

“That’s fine,” she said to Reese.

They both ignored the curious look Shaw was giving them.

“And here I was worried I’d come back and find one of you’d killed the other,” Shaw muttered.

“We’ve decided to behave like adults,” Root said. “It’s a new thing we’re both trying.”

She allowed herself a tiny smile when she heard Reese’s amused snort in response.

“About goddamn time.” Shaw collapsed into an empty chair, stretching out. “You gonna sit there in a towel all night or are you gonna put on the clothes I went out into the cold to get you?”

“I’m always game for playing dress-up,” Root said, getting up and sorting through the bags. They were mostly full of clothes but apparently Shaw had also gotten her some basic toiletries as well. She caught Shaw’s gaze and smiled wickedly. “Wanna come watch?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Reese glance up, startled, and look back and forth between the two of them, trying to put together the pieces. Shaw was also looking back and forth though between Reese and the bags next to Root.

She fought down a smile; Shaw definitely wanted to say yes but wouldn’t with John sitting there. While she didn’t think Shaw was embarrassed by their...whatever they had, she also didn’t appear to think it was anyone else’s business.

“If you’re acting like an adult you can dress yourself.”

Which actually brought up a good point.

“Actually I’m not sure I can.” She gestured at her bandaged wound. She'd managed earlier but to say it had been painful was a gross understatement.

Shaw grumbled and got up, shooting Reese a look that dared him to comment. He had wisely gone back to poking around on Root’s former laptop and didn’t look up once as Shaw grabbed the bags and stormed off into one of the bedrooms.

When Root caught up with her she was pulling clothes out and unceremoniously dumping them on the bed.

“Some shirts, couple pairs of pants, underwear, socks.” Shaw listed the items out and stepped back, letting Root look over her loot.

Shaw had mostly opted for practical clothes, sports bras, plain underwear, some tank tops and a thermal shirt for layering, a few nondescript pairs of pants. Almost every single piece of it was black.

“Just because you have no color in your wardrobe doesn’t mean all of us prefer it that way.” A good part of her own wardrobe was black but she couldn’t resist teasing.

Shaw stiffened but then relaxed when she saw Root was joking. “This is New York, everyone wears black. Helps you fit in.”

Root nodded to herself as she picked up the one item of clothing that was a different color: a vibrant blue shirt. She didn’t comment on it or even smile because she knew from the Machine that this was the thing Shaw had taken the longest to pick out and she suspected she’d get defensive if Root brought it up.

But she was totally going to wear it.

She chose the shirt and some of the boring, plain clothes and set them aside. She let her towel drop to the floor and smiled at the slight noise Shaw made behind her.

Despite her shoulder she managed to get her underwear on herself but turned to Shaw, bra in hand for help.

“Might be better to leave that off for now,” Shaw said, stepping forward to take the garment from her hands. “It’ll rub against the wound.”

She was in Root’s space now, moving in to examine the bandages.

“You kept them dry. Good.”

She didn’t take her hand away, though, moving it to trail softly down Root’s side. Root shivered; she was sensitive there and Shaw knew that.

“John’s in the other room,” Shaw murmured as if reminding herself, but didn't stop the path of her hand as it traced down to rest on Root’s hip.

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

She pulled her hand back and Root’s skin felt cold where it had been a second ago. She wondered if Shaw would still mind if she pressed her up against a wall now, injured arm or no. But Shaw had said she minded and even if Root flirted with her in front of Reese, this was a bit different.

“Let’s get your pants on,” Shaw said going around her to grab them off the bed.

“That’s the exact opposite of what I wanted to hear.”

“Well you can’t take them _more_ off.” Shaw pressed her uninjured shoulder. “Sit.”

Root tolerated Shaw helping her pull her pants on like she was a child even though she could probably have managed it herself. The shirt was the tricky bit. Shaw had to slip one sleeve over her arm and up her injured side and then pull it down over her. It still hurt quite a bit but not nearly as badly as it would have if she’d tried to do it herself.

“How do I look?” Root took a step back and spun in a circle like she was showing off a dress.

Shaw didn’t answer, watching her expressionlessly.

“Let’s go talk to Reese, come up with a plan.”

“How can we come up with a plan when we don’t know anything?”

“Because you’re going to fill us in on whatever it is you’re hiding.”

Root quirked her lips. “And what makes you think I’m hiding something?”

It was Shaw’s turn to smile. “Because you’re terrible at lying.”

“Is that so? I built a career on it, you know. A very successful career.”

“You’re terrible at lying to _me_.”

Root didn’t have a comeback for that and had to settle for following Shaw back into the living room to try and deal with the mess they’d found themselves in.

 

* * *

 

“Why didn't you tell us this before?” Reese asked, clearly exasperated.

Shaw was watching both of them carefully, waiting for any sign that they were about to start fighting with each other, but Root was on best behavior (or as close as she got to that) and Reese was listening rather than threatening her.

Progress.

“Because before I was hoping to convince you both that the threat was minimal enough to let me leave,” Root explained calmly. She was sitting back on the couch, doing something with her cellphone that Shaw hoped was secure.

Reese was across from her in his chair still. He sighed and shook his head but let her excuse stand.

Shaw came around the couch and sat on the opposite end from Root; the couch only seated two but there was still enough space to sit without touching. Root, of course, immediately shuffled sideways so their legs were just touching.

Shaw thought about getting up or shoving her away but instead relaxed into the back of the couch. She was tired and still a little cold from outside and she didn't _actually_ mind. She was surprised though when, after a second, she felt tension she hadn't realized was there drain from Root. What was she tense about? There was something off with her today.

“Does the Machine have an ID on any of these guys?” she asked. She was choosing to ignore the way that Reese was very pointedly not looking at them. If he said even one word she was going to kick his ass later.

“All of them.” Root looked a bit smug, proud of her Machine's knowledge. “She's forwarded it to the laptop John appropriated from me.”

Reese didn't look even slightly remorseful. “I’ll look through these, see if there’s something we can use.”

“I’m heading out then,” Shaw announced, reluctantly standing up. No part of her was looking forward to going back out into the New York winter, but there were things to be done so she was going to have to suck it up. It was supposed to snow again tonight, too.

“Out?” Root had finally stopped fiddling with her phone and was frowning.

“Running back to my place, get some more weapons and stuff. John, if you get a lead let me know and I’ll redirect.”

“Will do.” He was still engrossed in the research he was doing on the laptop. It was a bit odd for him to be the one glued to a computer screen but if it meant she got to be the one out shooting people she could get used to it.

Root was still frowning but didn’t say anything else. She did, however, drift over to Shaw as she was pulling her coat on holding a scarf she’d found...somewhere. She tolerated Root wrapping the scarf around her and patting it in place.

“Maybe later you can return the favor,” Root breathed quietly right next to her ear, tugging the scarf constrictingly tight around Shaw’s neck for a second to make her meaning clear.

Shaw certainly wasn’t opposed to the idea but still huffed and rolled her eyes to show that she was _not_ amused. Root smirked and strutted back into the main apartment.

“I’m going to take a nap. I’ll wake up if someone’s trying to kill me,” she called to Reese who only nodded.

It was unbelievably cold outside, all the pedestrians walking with their heads down and huddled in multiple layers of coats and hats. It made the threat against Root make even less sense; how would someone spot a person in this weather where people had scarves wrapped over half their faces? What they’d seen of Decima so far suggested they usually were better at planning than this. So what was really going on?

The subway station was much warmer and Shaw was grateful to be out of the wind tunnels that were the New York streets in winter. She leaned against one of the metal pillars, waiting for the uptown express when Reese contacted her through her comlink.

“Shaw? Got a possible location on one of these guys hired to kill Root.”

She moved a little down the platform, out of the way of the packs of holiday tourists. “I’m listening.”

“His last known location was on the edge of a block that has almost no camera coverage. The Machine lost track of him when he entered the area and didn’t see him come out again.”

“So he’s still there somewhere?” The subway she’d been waiting for came rushing into the station, brakes squealing and doors hissing open. She didn’t get on it; unless this guy was camped out in her neighborhood she was probably going to need a different train.

“There’s a hotel in that block and Root was able to get into their records. Someone got a room there about ten minutes after this guy disappeared, but there’s no name on record and they paid with cash.”

“Where am I heading?”

He gave her an address in midtown which made her groan. “Shoulda just stolen a car. I’m gonna have to transfer.”

“Have fun with the tourists.” Reese sounded amused.

“Fuck off.” But Reese had already cut her off. She’d get him back later.

After a frustratingly long subway ride she emerged back onto the street and walked the six blocks from the subway entrance to the hotel Reese had tracked down.

“I’m at the hotel, Reese. What room?”

“310. You have a plan?”

“I was thinking about hitting him until he tells me what I need to know.”

“Have fun.”

The hallway of the third floor was carpeted which effectively muffled her footsteps. She stopped to the side of the door to room 310 and listened. There was no noise from inside and out of nowhere she suddenly missed Cole. They hadn’t needed a pre-existing camera to operate like the Machine did. It had been nice to know he had her back.

After a good three minutes had passed with no noise from inside Shaw pulled out a lockpick set from her pocket and squatted down to be out of view of the peephole while she popped the lock. She straightened up, pushing the door open slowly, lockpicks away and gun out.

It was a very nice and expensive hotel room with a small sitting room and a bedroom. The sitting room was empty except for a coat dropped on the couch and the door to the bedroom was shut. Shaw closed the door behind her silently and did a sweep of the living room before stalking silently to the bedroom door. She thought she could hear breathing on the other side of the shut door, but it was so faint that she wasn’t sure.

She pushed the door open with her shoulder, gun aiming into the room.

There was a man in the bed who woke up the second the door opened and was almost instantly aiming a gun at her. She shot first, hitting him solidly in the shoulder of the arm holding his gun. He yelped and his arm fell, gun not dropped but held loosely in his grasp now.

“Drop it.”

The man released the gun and moved his hand away from it, his face set in a grimace of pain. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the one with the gun which means I’m asking the questions.” She moved closer, grabbing the gun off his bed without ever looking away from him or lowering her own weapon.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.” The man was a pretty nondescript white dude with short hair and a forgettable face.

“You got hired by some people right before you came here. What were your orders?” She’d opened the comlink back up so Reese could hear.

The man only stared silently at her.

“Were you supposed to kill someone?”

Still nothing.

“How were you going to find your target?”

She was aware that at this point it was probably futile. She had a suspicion that this guy was ex-military or militia, something about the way he held himself. He wasn’t going to talk even if she broke his face open.

“Got anything that could help me?” she asked Reese.

“He goes by the name Danny Evans. Probably an alias though since there’s basically nothing on him. The others are all the same.”

“Right. I’ll sort this out and head back.” She was planning on knocking him out and finding somewhere to stash him where they could question him at leisure, but was content to let him think she was about to kill him in the off chance that it would get him talking.

Apparently he _did_ think that because his injured arm was rising up now with another gun he must have had hidden (stupid of her not to check) and she was already moving sideways to avoid the shot.

They both fired almost simultaneously, and Shaw felt a hot slice across her upper left arm even as her bullet hit him squarely between the eyes. She cursed and pulled at the hole in her jacket and shirt to see the damage; it was only a graze, bleeding a bit but probably didn’t even need stitches.

“Shaw?” Reese must have heard the gunfire over the comlink.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Other guy has a bullet in the brain though.”

“Well that’s not helpful.”

She rolled her eyes at his tone. “He tried to shoot me. I don’t like it when people try to shoot me.”

“I seem to remember that you _did_ shoot me the first time we met.”

“Don’t be such a baby. You were fine.”

She holstered her gun and set about poking through the drawers in the bedroom. There was a bag full of an impressive amount of weaponry on the bed next to the floor. At the bottom of it was a manila folder that contained a picture of Root, and a printed page with the address of the hotel on it. Under the address was printed: “72 hours.”

She filled Reese in on what she was looking at and went back to searching.

“72 hours until what?” Reese asked.

“Not sure. Is Root awake? Maybe she or the Master Control Program has some idea what it means.”

“Master what?”

“It’s from...you know what? Never mind. Is Root there or not?” This was not the time to wonder how Reese had managed to get through his whole life without seeing Tron.

“She was out cold last time I checked. Did you drug her?”

Shaw chuckled. “No, but I should have.”

She finished tossing the living room. Nothing else there. “Okay, I’m heading back. I’ll wake her up and ask her when I’m there.”

When she got back outside snow was falling lightly.

 

* * *

 

“Root, wake up.”

She groaned and burrowed deeper into the bed, trying to throw one arm over her eyes to block out the annoying light. Unfortunately it was the arm on her injured side and the pain from the movement was so excruciating that it drove all the sleep out of her. She opened her eyes.

Shaw was standing next to the bed, cheeks still red from the cold. She had stripped down to a tank top and pants and there was a bandage on her upper left arm that hadn't been there before.

“What happened?” Root asked, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

“Got careless. Only got clipped though.”

She didn’t seem particularly concerned and Root knew she'd walked off much worse in the past.

“And what happened to the person who shot you?” She reluctantly kicked the blankets back and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Got dead. He wasn’t going to talk.”

“My, how bloodthirsty of you.” She got slowly to her feet, half-listening to the Machine updating her on everything that had happened while she’d been asleep. “And no, I have no idea what 72 hours is about.”

Shaw shook her head in disgust. “Why do I ever even try to tell you anything?”

“Does this mean I can go back to sleep now?” Though she was more interested in stealing her laptop back from Reese and doing some digging of her own.

“Reese went to get some food for us.”

It dawned on her that neither of them had eaten for quite some time. Now that she thought about it she was starving. Shaw must be ready to murder someone. Well, another someone.

“So it’s just the two of us here?” She stood up and stepped towards Shaw. She’d taken her pants off to sleep but the rest of her clothes were still on.

“He’ll be back in like twenty minutes tops, Root,” Shaw said with good-natured exasperation. Her eyes, however, were traveling over Root's body.

“That’s too bad.” Root reached out with her good arm, sliding her hand across Shaw’s shoulder, around the back of her neck, and up to tangle in her ponytail which she tugged on sharply.

Shaw reached up and pushed her backwards by her shoulders, barely avoiding her injury. It hurt like hell anyway and by the time her brain finished processing the sharp pain she was sitting on the bed and Shaw had more or less climbed into her lap, straddling her. Maybe shooting someone had gotten her hot. Root's hands moved automatically to Shaw’s hips to steady her, her thumbs slipping up above the edge of Shaw’s pants to stroke over her bare skin under her shirt.

When Shaw kissed her she leaned into it, enthusiastically, and when it finally broke off she caught Shaw's lower lip between her teeth, biting down just enough to pull a small grunt from Shaw. Once she'd freed her lip from Root's teeth, Shaw ran her tongue over it and grinned before leaning back in.

She leaned down to suck and bite lightly at the base of Root's neck. Root tilted her head to the side and tightened her grip on Shaw's hips to pull her in closer, relishing the feeling of the body pressed up against hers.

“I thought John would be back in twenty minutes?” she teased as she moved her hands up, splaying her fingers out on the bare skin of Shaw’s back.

Shaw pulled back to look at her.

“Shut up, Root.”

But she was smiling, eyes dark and bright. And then she leaned back in to kiss her, tongue running along Root’s lips and then pushing into her mouth insistently.

Root was in the difficult process of trying to unbuckle Shaw’s belt with her left hand when the Machine cut in.

“Shaw, wait.” Root pulled back, pushing gently on Shaw’s shoulder. Shaw sat back but didn’t climb off her.

“That thing had better be warning us about an imminent apocalypse or I’m going to fry its servers.”

Root shook her head. “She says it was a trick.” She kept listening, jaw clenched.

“You look like you're going to murder someone,” Shaw said. “More than usual.” She frowned and slid off of Root to sit next to her on the bed. “What’s going on?”

“The men they hired to kill me? They weren’t really hired for that. They were a trick. They made it look good, kept all the information suggesting it was a hit digital so She’d pick up on it but then gave them different directions in person somewhere where She couldn’t hear them.” Root clenched her fists in the sheets.

“What was the point then?”

“They used me against Her!” Root couldn’t remember that last time she felt this furious. She wanted to hurt someone, badly. Greer would be a good start if they knew where to find him. “She was so focused on me that She didn’t even notice….”

“Notice what?”

“The chip we took away from them? Decima rounded up all the top people responsible for designing it. They all vanished over the course of the day.”

Shaw let that sink in. “Fuck.”

Root stood up and grabbed her pants off the ground, struggling into them and ignoring the pain rippling through her at the motion.

“I have work to do.”

The Machine was concerned still, but they were both fairly convinced that the threat from before was manufactured. Decima had hired the men to sit in hotel rooms where the Machine couldn’t see them long enough (72 hours, she was sure of that now even if they hadn't needed all of it) to kidnap the people they needed. The Machine hadn’t registered a threat against them until they’d been reported missing.

“Whole thing was a distraction.” Shaw said, scowling. She shook her head and Root could see the faint traces of anger in her eyes.

Root grabbed the bag of clothes that had ended up on the floor and threw open the bedroom door. Out in the living room she grabbed the backpack Daizo had given to John for her and started stuffing clothes in it. She looked at the laptop for a long minute but then left it. The Machine had promised her a new one and even if the information she’d gotten for John could have been pulled down to another laptop she felt like taking it might break the truce they had. She might not be that impressed with him all the time, but they were going to have to learn to work together.

“Where exactly are you going?” Shaw had followed her back into the living room and was standing next to the couch, still scowling.

“They’re going to get another prototype of that chip in no time. Getting the chip first bought us a little time, but this takes away almost any advantage we had. I have things to do.” The Machine was already telling her where to go next. She sighed. She was sick of plane flights though looking forward to being out in the world again, helping Her.

“Can I help?”

Root paused from her hurried packing to look at Shaw; her face was blank but her fists were clenched by her sides. Neither of them enjoyed being played like that.

“You’ve got John and Fusco and the irrelevant numbers here. If we need help with something we’ll be in touch.” She shoved the last shirt into the backpack and zipped it up.

“So I’m supposed to, what? Sit here and hope you don’t get yourself shot preventing the AI apocalypse?”

Root straightened up and moved over to Shaw, placing her hands on Shaw’s arms, carefully avoiding the bandage. “Trust us. If either of us really needs help we’ll call for backup. There’s too much at stake not to.”

She was taken completely by surprise when Shaw grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her savagely. She relaxed into it, pressing her body up against Shaw’s despite the pain. When Shaw finally pulled back Root was half-tempted to demand the Machine find her a slightly later flight so she and Shaw could go make use of that fancy shower like she’d been hoping.

“You owe me for walking out on me like this. Don’t get your dumb ass shot again,” Shaw said, breaking away from her and going to stare out the window.

Root smiled at her back and pulled on her leather jacket before throwing the pack over her good shoulder.

“Here.” Shaw had grabbed the scarf Root had given her earlier and was holding it out. “It’s cold and snowing.”

Root took it from her and examined it for a minute. It was nothing special, a plain black scarf that had been in the bottom of the pack Daizo had brought. It was very soft but otherwise unremarkable.

“I’m going somewhere warm,” she lied and tossed it back to Shaw. “You’ll need it more.” It wouldn’t mean anything to Shaw, but she liked the thought of her wearing it while she was gone.

“I’ve got plenty of scarves,” Shaw said, but she didn't insist.

Root opened the apartment door and paused, glancing back. Shaw was standing in the middle of the living room, holding her scarf, and looking indescribably angry.

“Take care of the team, Sameen.” She needed Shaw to remember why she was here. Saving the irrelevant numbers was so important to the Machine and Root couldn’t usurp that unless there were no other options.

Shaw didn’t answer and Root gave her a quick smile and stepped out of the door. She thought she caught Shaw softly saying something right before the door shut but she didn’t hear it clearly.

“Did she say something?” Root asked Her.

The Machine wouldn't tell though.

She ran into Reese at the entrance to the building.

“Root, where are you going?” His tone was slightly threatening.

“No time, Reese. Shaw will explain.” She looked at the bags of take-out he’d gotten. “Hope you got a lot, she’s furious.”

Reese looked at the bags and then back up at her. “Did you tell Fusco about the Machine?”

Whoops. She’d been wondering when he’d find out about that.

“Shaw can fill you in on all of that!” she said brightly and hurried past him onto the street and towards the corner so she could signal the cab the Machine had informed her was coming.

When she glanced back John was gone and she was alone on the snowy street. Just her and the Machine again. Maybe She'd read to Root on the plane again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thank you to everyone who's left comments and kudos. next chapter is tentatively planned for late sunday night.


	5. Interludes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different. I wrote the first bit as a one-off and then decided to make it a little series of one-offs. All of these could happen either before or during the next chapter, it's not too important when. The name of each section is related to music/musical theory and I put brief explanations of each at the end for anyone interested.

 

_Counterpoint & Synchronization_

“How does it...she talk to you?” Shaw asked her one evening as they were strolling through Central Park, an eager Bear bouncing around on the end of his leash and snapping at snowflakes.

Root looked sideways at Shaw, took in her face, red with the cold beneath the black beanie she’d pulled on. There was snow collecting on the shoulders of her coat and sticking to the locks of her hair that hung loose framing her face. The Machine whispered to Root about dihedral symmetry and the crystalline structure of snowflakes but for once she wasn’t interested in what She had to say.

Sometimes not knowing the tiny details was okay. She was learning to accept that.

“What are you asking?” Root finally replied.

If it had been anyone else she would have given a snide, patronizing answer or settled for something suitably vague that sounded far more profound than it actually was. But it was Shaw who had asked.

“Is it words, numbers? Like someone reading the phone book in your ear? Or like one of those numbers stations?”

They’d stopped so Bear could roll in a snowbank and Shaw was trying hard not to smile at his antics. She was probably torn between appreciating his obvious enjoyment and knowing she’d have to dry him off later.

“Sometimes.” Root let her eyes wander over the darkened park. It was early enough that it was still fairly crowded mostly by either people playing in the snow or by people hurrying through, heads down and coats buttoned tightly against the cold.

“Why do I even bother asking?” Shaw muttered without any real malice, reaching down to brush the top layer of snow off of Bear when he came running back over to them.

“Sometimes it’s words. About what you’d hear when you answer a payphone call from Her. Sometimes it’s only a tone. One pitch for yes, another for no.”

Shaw nodded to herself. “Makes sense. Faster that way.”

They started walking again, Root still trying to think of a way to more fully answer Shaw’s question. She almost didn’t want to answer; what she had with the Machine was very private. She knew Shaw would understand that, but at the same time she still wanted to try and explain.

“It’s different depending on what type of information she’s relaying,” Root continued as they walked past the icy lake. There were no little swan boats out on the water today.

Shaw didn’t respond, only bumped her elbow lightly with her own, as if letting her know she was still listening.

“You remember when Reese and I got admin access?”

“You mean when I shot you?” Shaw sounded pleased with herself for bringing that up.

Root smiled, a tiny twitch of her lips.

“Yes,” she said, tolerantly. “When you shot me, Shaw. Anyway, the Machine gave us directions on where to go and enemy locations using clock position. Or She did at first. I suspect Reese stuck with that system because he was used to it already, but I had Her switch it to tones, ascending and descending.”

“How was that easier?” Shaw asked. “Clock position makes more sense.”

“To you.”

It hadn’t been as natural for Root. She knew clock position but she’d never had to use it the way Reese and Shaw would have and the time it took to interpret the word and change it into a location based on a clock was far too much of a delay for her. She would have gotten faster at it, but the tones had felt more organic.

“So you get tones for combat. Doesn’t sound very useful. How much information can you really get that way?”

They’d stopped again to let Bear engage in a very careful investigation of a snow-covered shrub. Shaw leaned against a lamppost and Root stood a few steps away, poking at the freshly fallen snow on the path with the toe of her boot.

“At first it wasn’t much, but the system only started there. It’s...more complicated now.”

“Isn’t everything,” Shaw said under her breath and Root laughed in agreement.

“Instead of clock positions there are...musical directions? I’m not sure there’s even a word for it. Different pitches and different intervals mean different things. Minor chords for warnings and major chords for advantages. A faster tempo to encourage swifter action. A Doppler effect for distance.”

Shaw was finally looking at her, eyebrow raised. “That sounds very loud and confusing. I’ll stick to simple numbers, thanks.”

Root shrugged. “It started with only one or two tones and we slowly grew it from there. Like learning a new language. Now I don’t even have to think about it. Everyone has their own notes, their own rhythm. A song almost.”

“You’re saying I have my own theme song?” Shaw was grinning at her now, Bear’s snowy adventures forgotten for a moment.

Root returned her smile, stepping in to brush snow off of her coat shoulder’s and then run her hands up and down Shaw’s arms a few times before releasing her.

“It’s one of my favorites,” she said, making it sound extra sappy.

It was easier, sometimes, to push the flirting and teasing up to eleven because it made Shaw take it less seriously. And that let Root hide how serious she was being.

“You’ll have to get her to play it for me sometime.”

“I’m sure She’d be happy to, though I don’t know how much it would mean to you without the whole system.” Though Root thought it might not matter. It still conveyed the tight precision driven by the adrenalized energy that was Shaw in the midst of battle. It was music that took joy in its own performance.

“No wonder you’re staring off into space all the time. Got a whole fucking orchestra blaring in your brain.”

Bear had finally determined that the shrub wasn’t a threat to national security and they were allowed to continue their walk.

“A lot of the time She talks to me using words,” Root corrected. “But in high-stress situations She switches to notes, because it’s easier to process them subconsciously.”

“You must be unbelievable at guitar hero.”

Root snorted in amusement and they lapsed into silence. The wind was picking up and she moved in closer to Shaw, their shoulders brushing now.

“Also when I’m walking around thinking about other things, like now for instance, she’ll play soft notes in the background to tell me where people are around me and how fast they’re moving. Things like that. At first it was only noise to me, but now it’s like having a blurry picture of the whole area in my mind. Like watercolors. It helps me see things I couldn't otherwise see. Makes up for...things I can't do.” There was a slight stab of pain from behind her right ear, psychosomatic she knew, but it still hurt.

“I don’t think I’d want anyone in my head like that,” Shaw said. She didn’t sound like she was condemning Root’s connection, only ruling it out for herself.

“I’m sure if the need ever arose She and you could work out a system that suited both of you.” It was something she’d actually discussed with Her before.

“Why would the need ever arise?” Shaw had an edge of wariness in her voice now.

“We’re at war with Decima, Shaw, and the actuality of Samaritan is breathing down our necks. Who knows what will become necessary before we’re done.”

“You’ve got the computer whisperer bit covered. We don’t need more tech heads. Literal tech head in your case.”

“If I weren’t around and Finch was still gone, someone would have to talk to Her.”

Root realized Shaw had stopped walking and turned back to look at her. She was standing in the light of a lamppost, snowflakes whirling around her, and an odd look on her face.

“Shaw?”

Shaw only shook her head and started walking again. Root fell back into step with her but left a little more space. She knew something had caused a ripple across the calm surface of Shaw’s mind but she wasn’t completely sure what.

“I don’t want a computer talking in my head, okay?” Shaw said after a long moment.

Was that all it had been? Maybe so, because Shaw had closed the distance between them again and was walking so close to her that she was having a hard time not tripping on her feet.

“That’s…”

“So you’d better make sure nothing happens to you. Because I’m not going to put up with AI’s greatest hits of the 90’s in my brain. Okay?” She sounded furious and Root couldn’t stop the smile that her words provoked.

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Root.”

“Okay, Sameen.”

In her ear Shaw’s song softened from an angry clash of minor chords into a smoother progression that blended with Root’s own music, melodies twining together.

 

* * *

 

_Harmonization_

“I’m sleeping with Root.”

Reese managed to simultaneously spit out and choke on his coffee. He felt Shaw slapping him on the back as he coughed, gasping for breath.

“You couldn’t wait until I wasn’t drinking?” he finally asked.

“I’m trying to decide if I’m insulted enough by your response to shoot you in the kneecap,” Shaw replied, though she didn’t sound particularly hostile. She’d picked up the menu off the table of the cheap diner they were sitting in and was hiding behind the pages.

“Why tell me at all?” Though he’d sort of wondered what was going on there. Root batted her eyes and flirted with Shaw every chance she had, and Shaw’s apparent irritation at that wasn’t very convincing, but he hadn’t been sure how far it had gone.

“Smaller group now. Three of us, four when Fusco can help. Five if you count Bear.” Shaw frowned. “And I guess the Machine makes six. But...whatever, it’s still a small group. Secrets don’t stay secrets long and I don’t want information coming out at the wrong time and rocking the boat.”

Reese wiped coffee off the table with a paper napkin. “So are you two like--” He looked around the mostly-empty diner for inspiration. “--a thing?” Hopefully that was vague enough.

Shaw dropped her menu and fixed him with a _look_.

“No, Reese, we’re not a....listen, we’re just fucking sometimes. That’s it.”

Reese held up a hand. “Okay, more than I wanted to know.”

“Then why did you ask?” Shaw growled as she returned to her menu.

When the waiter finally came by Shaw ordered some ridiculous fruit-covered pancake atrocity and Reese went for sausage and eggs. He watched the waiter walk away, mulling over what Shaw had told him and trying to figure out _why_ she had told him in the first place.

“You know, if you were…” he started cautiously.

“If who was what?” Shaw appeared to have forgotten their entire conversation in her excitement over the promise of pancakes.

“You and Root. I mean I don’t really trust her, but if you and she…” he trailed off at Shaw’s murderous expression. “Uh, nevermind.”

He watched the muted TV hanging on the wall behind the front counter until their food came. Shaw’s mood improved greatly as soon as she was digging into a stack of syrup-drenched pancakes. He only poked at his own food; he hadn’t had much of an appetite for quite some time now. He’d only agreed to breakfast with Shaw because it was so unusual of her to ask. Which, why had she asked anyway?

“So what’s the plan here, Shaw?” he asked. This had to be about a number. Or another crazy request from Root and the Machine.

“Plan? There’s no plan. I wanted pancakes.” Shaw was frowning at her phone, jabbing at it with a sticky finger.

“You sent me a message to meet you for breakfast all the way across town on a freezing cold day for...pancakes.” He let the disbelief bleed into his voice.

“Yes.” Shaw sighed and dropped her fork. “Okay, no. Root said...she said that with Finch gone I’m in charge and that doesn’t sit well with me.”

Reese blinked once or twice. Whatever he’d been expecting this wasn’t it. He hadn’t really thought about it, but Shaw had been the one making a lot of the calls lately. He’d been preoccupied with his ongoing search for Finch and had left most of the details to her. Neither of them was big on talking at length and they’d settled into a natural pattern without realizing.

“Sorry,” he said, awkwardly. “I’ve been…” He stopped, not wanting to put it in words. It was fine; she knew.

“Didn’t mean for you to apologize. You’ve got seniority here and Finch’s gig was always more personal for you. So I thought I’d bring it up. Back off if you wanted.” She raised a warning finger. “But only if you actually are gonna be in charge. You don’t get to half-ass this.”

Reese felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Why would I want to be in charge? Sounds like a lot of work. And you’re not doing a bad job.”

“People have died, Reese.” There was no guilt in her voice, she stated it as a fact. Math.

“People are always going to die. We save as many as we can. And if you hadn’t gotten things back on track after...everything then even more people would have died.”

“Maybe. Either way, you want me to back off, you let me know.”

He’d like to have been able to suggest that they should be partners in this, but he knew (they both knew) that there needed to be someone calling the shots if things got bad. A clear chain of command was essential to operational success.

“I’m fine with how things are.”

He’d liked working for Finch, it had given him purpose and enough autonomy to operate comfortably but someone else was giving the big orders, keeping him on task. He suspected Shaw preferred that, too, but if both of them kept on with that attitude they’d drift off onto their own priorities.

“Okay,” Shaw said. She apparently considered the matter settled because she went back to scarfing down her pancakes at an inhuman rate.

“You should ask for a raise,” John said, stabbing a sausage with his fork.

Shaw snorted and shook her head. They’d both been living off of Finch’s money. The Machine and Root had worked together to make sure they wouldn’t be left unfunded with Finch missing. They were using what it took to live and continue working but not much more than that.

They spent the rest of the meal in comfortable silence, both watching the muted tv on and off. This was one of Reese’s favorite parts about working with Shaw, there was no pressure for unnecessary small-talk. Shaw had even less use for it than he did. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, he’d figured out, it was that she saved the caring for the things that were really important to her. She didn’t give a fuck what he’d done with his morning, but she’d wanted to make sure the team power structure was sorted out. Because Reese cleaning his guns while watching old tv show marathons wasn’t going to get someone killed, but conflicting orders on a mission could.

“Think we’re going to get a new number today?” he asked as they both dumped cash on the table to cover the bill.

Shaw shrugged. “Who knows? Machine doesn’t talk to me and Root keeps being cryptic and weird in her texts.”

Reese decided he probably didn’t want to know what ‘weird’ was in this case.

“Wanna go to a shooting range, blow off some steam?” Shaw asked him as they left.

He didn’t really have much else to do. He’d slowly been picking through all the information the Machine had given him, but there was absolutely nothing solid to follow up on yet.

“Sure, why not.”

They walked side by side towards the subway.

“This wouldn’t be bad, you know,” Shaw said out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Like, _this_. As life. I mean, if Finch were back, of course. And if we didn’t have this whole Decima mess. But otherwise….”

“Those are big ifs.”

“I know.”

“But, yeah, Shaw, if Finch were back and Decima were gone, this wouldn’t be bad at all.”

 

* * *

 

_Triad_

“I’m driving.” Shaw grabbed the keys from Reese and headed around towards the driver’s side.

“Why do you always drive?” Reese asked. “Don’t I ever get a turn?”

“No.” Shaw climbed in and slammed the door. She stuck the key in the ignition and settled into the hum of the engine coming to life.

“What if you broke your foot?” Reese settled into the passenger’s seat.

“What if _I_ broke _your_ foot?”

Reese held up his hands defensively. “It was just a question.”

Shaw tuned him out and pulled out of the lot onto the road. They were a couple hours upstate of the city and there were roads out here she could actually open up a little on, not confined by the insane city traffic.

She didn’t want to explain why she loved driving so much, because it felt like such an obvious answer to her. What wasn’t there to love? The feel of the engine throbbing through the car, the thrill of speed and control with an added dash of dangerous adrenaline, the smell of gasoline and scorched rubber, the world streaking by outside, too slow to keep up with her. Driving appealed to almost all her senses, a visceral experience when done correctly.

Of course there was a lot of being stuck in traffic and driving slow in heavily patrolled areas, but at least behind the wheel she had control of those situations. She wasn’t trapped by the driver’s decisions if she was the driver.

Reese had something awful in the CD player that was completely killing her driving buzz, but she didn’t complain. She’d made a snide comment about it on the way up and Reese had said something about grabbing a bunch of Harold’s cds on the way out the door that let her know to shut up about it.

She didn’t understand the sentiment exactly, but she could appreciate what it was.

“Crap.” Reese silenced the music and pulled his phone out.

“Hello?” He made a face. “Hi, Root. She’s driving, you’re going to have to talk to me instead.”

“Put her on speaker,” Shaw pointed out. The car had a bluetooth connection for stuff like that.

“Hi, kids,” Root’s voice piped out of the car’s sound system. “How’s the great outdoors treating you?”

They’d hit the highway now and Shaw moved over to the left-most lane, pushing the accelerator down.

“You’re going to have to speak up, Root. Shaw is trying to break the sound barrier,” Reese said snidely.

“Shaw, sweetie, try not to get arrested until you’re back in the city where Fusco can help you.”

“Both of you can bite me,” Shaw yelled over the engine. And then, “Shut up, Root.”

Root made a noise that might have been an attempt to muffle a laugh and out of the corner of her eye Shaw could see Reese had shut his eyes and was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What do you want, Root?” Shaw asked. Honestly, these two.

“She’s got a new number for you once you get back to the city. No rush, though. This one doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger so take your time. Maybe catch a nap when you get in.”

“Are you kidding?” Shaw scoffed. “This last number was so boring I almost fell asleep kicking his ass. I’m ready for something exciting.”

“I noticed,” Reese said, gripping the door handle of the car as Shaw rapidly shifted lanes twice to move around some cars that were only going a mere fifteen miles above the speed limit.

“Shaw, try not to give Reese a heart-attack, please. We need him. For something. Probably.”

“Gee, thanks, Root.” Reese had forced himself to let go of the door handle and was now looking at the glove compartment as if his life depended on it.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow probably,” Root said. “Be good.” The call disconnected.

Reese put his screechy opera music back on, which, she was pretty sure he didn’t actually _like_ , but okay. She sighed and relaxed into the seat, enjoying the empty road in front of her.

“Enjoying yourself?” Reese asked.

“Yeah, actually, I am.”

Driving was a bit like fighting. There were bigger things to worry about like getting caught, but it narrowed down to a combination of instinct and anticipation. She needed to read the other drivers, both their overt signals (blinkers, brake lights) and their driving language (the little shimmy a car did before changing lanes without signaling, the indecision of a lost driver). And based on what she saw she needed to react quickly and confidently.

“You like driving, Reese?”

“It’s fine. Means to an end.”

She shook her head. What the hell was wrong with him?

“I hate sitting in traffic,” he continued.

Well, that was something they could agree on.

“Nothing like being stuck, unable to make a move until someone else does first,” Shaw agreed.

“You still talking about traffic, Shaw?”

She shifted in her seat. “Maybe not.”

“I’m sick of being on the defensive, too.”

“I don’t like having an enemy I can’t fight. Be much better to go kick down some doors. If we actually knew what doors we could kick down.”

“Keep talking like that and Root will call back and scold you,” Reese said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Easy for her to not care. She gets all the exciting stuff.”

“All the exciting stuff is gonna get her killed one day.” Reese had opened the cd box for whatever Italian classical fiasco they were listening to and was paging through it.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Who else said it?”

“Root.” Shaw honked at a Honda that was committing the crime of existing where she was trying to drive.

“You’re the one trying to wrap us around a tree right now, and you’re upset that Root isn’t being careful enough?”

Shaw changed lanes again and left the miscreant Honda in her dust.

“There’s a difference. When I do things it’s calculated. If there’s risk it’s because it’s unavoidable. Root, she believes in grand gestures, in martyring herself at the words of some computer that may or may not care about her.” She knew that was unfair; the Machine clearly cared about Root in its own way. But it also had encouraged her to save Cyrus Wells which had almost gotten her killed.

“You can always tase her and lock her up in the safe-house until we take down Decima.” Reese was joking but Shaw considered it for a second.

“Nah, the Machine wouldn’t stand for it.”

“It let Finch lock her up in the library.”

“Yeah, and look where that got us,” Shaw pointed out.

It was a low blow, but they both also knew it was true. They fell back into silence and Shaw switched her full attention back to driving. It was simple, uncomplicated. Right now she could use a little of that.

They made it back to the city in record time.

 

* * *

 

_Tritone Resolution_

“Shaw is not going to be pleased when she finds out she missed all the fun,” Reese said as they walked down the sidewalk in Brooklyn towards the address the Machine had directed them to.

“I'll make it up to her,” Root said lightly, enjoying the look on Reese's face at the implications of that. “And it's not like she's got nothing to do.”

“Recon, nothing exciting. And Zoe is doing most of the work.”

Root hadn't heard that part. “Zoe?”

Reese was giving some vague explanation but she tuned him out in favor of the much more thorough description the Machine provided her.

“I see. She sounds fascinating. Can't wait to meet her.”

Reese stumbled slightly and Root half-turned to smile at him. “Something wrong, John?” She'd been sticking to calling him his name lately; he'd been there to protect her when he thought she'd needed it and he'd always called her Root so it seemed fair.

“No. Nothing’s wrong. I'm sure you and Zoe won't be the most terrifying thing to ever happen to Manhattan even a little bit.”

Root decided to make it a point to meet this Zoe Morgan sooner rather than later.

“So this number we're after,” Reese started.

“Simple enough. The men in the apartment we're headed towards have a very large stash of weapons they're planning to move into the city. Our number is a go-between for their group and a local gang.”

Root pulled a gun out and popped the clip out and back in which made Reese look worriedly around them since it was broad daylight. She didn't really need to but she'd always liked to have something in her hands to fiddle with. Honestly, she’d known no one was near them. Did he think she was an idiot?

“So our number is going to get killed during the transaction? Or the gang is going to take him out after?”

Root shrugged. “Does it matter? We shoot the dealers and warn the guy off. Easy job.”

“Shoot them in the kneecaps, right?” John had a scolding teacher edge to his voice.

“Of course.” They had reached the building now and Root jerked her head to signal that Reese should follow her around back.

“We've got a few minutes to kill before our number gets here,” she said as they came to a halt under the fire escape. She leaned up against the building wall. The Machine had given her a couple of packed days and her feet were starting to ache.

“As long as we're still able to save him,” Reese said, taking a spot next to her against the wall.

“Why is that so important to you?” Root asked.

Reese raised an eyebrow. “Saving people? It's a good thing to do.”

“No.” Root shook her head. “Shaw does it because it's a good thing to do, and because she enjoys the action, but with you it's different. More personal. You like being the good guy, the lone ranger riding in to save the day.”

“I'm not sure I could pull off a cowboy hat,” Reese said, clearly amused.

“You're avoiding the question.” She wasn't sure when John's motivations had started to interest her, but they did and she wasn't going to let this go.

“Why do you like working for the Machine?”

He was deflecting her question but she was curious where he was headed with this.

“Other than the fact I enjoy working for Her? She gave me a reason for existing, a purpose.”

“Something larger than yourself?” Reese was smiling like he knew something.

“Yes.” That wasn't a bad way to put it at all.

“Then there's your answer.”

She'd walked right into that one.

“Why John, are you saying we're alike? How adorably sentimental of you.”

“Now I wouldn't go that far…” Reese looked slightly alarmed now.

“No, I think you're right. This whole bonding session is really going well. We should do it more often.” She batted her eyes at him and he leaned away from her fractionally.

“Is our number showing up soon?” he asked, scooching down the wall away from her. “Suddenly I really need to shoot something.”

On the way back to the library later that night he stopped at a deli and ordered a sandwich to go as Root waited impatiently. She was puzzled when he handed her the bag.

“It's her favorite,” he explained before he set off down the street.

She looked down at the bag and then back at John's retreating back and smiled before hurrying to follow him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, a little different from the previous stories but hopefully not out of place. I've had the idea for Root's method of talking to the Machine bouncing around in my head in various forms since 2x22 and the whole 'we might as well be a symphony' bit just cemented it as my headcanon. Next chapter is back to plot and goes through a bunch of canon episodes. Probably Thursday?
> 
> Anyway I'm a giant music nerd though I'm a bit out of practice.  
> Terms:  
> Synchronization: "Synchronization is the coordination of events to operate a system in unison." ([x](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synchronization)) It can refer to both music and computer systems (and many other things).
> 
> Counterpoint: In music, counterpoint is a relationship between different musical lines that are dependent on each other and yet independent in form and movement...that's the best way of putting it I could find. Basically two things that work well together while being unique.
> 
> Harmonization: I think most people know this one. "Harmonization usually sounds pleasant to the ear when there is a balance between the consonant and dissonant sounds. In simple words, that occurs when there is a balance between "tense" and "relaxed" moments." ([x](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harmony))
> 
> Triad: A set of three musical notes. Consists of the root (aha yes, i made a bad pun), third, and fifth.
> 
> Tritone Resolution: The tritone is sometimes referred to as 'the devil in the music' because it's a very dissonant (unpleasant) tone. The resolution of a tritone is moving from the tritone's dissonance into a more consonant (pleasant) tone.
> 
> Sorry for the long end note.


	6. Deaths With Benefits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references 3 episodes: Allegiance, Most Likely To..., and Death Benefit.

“I’m borrowing your dog.”

“Root? What? Don’t you touch Bear!”

Root smiled to herself at the outrage in Shaw’s voice over the phone.

“Relax, he’ll be fine. I’ll return him without a scratch.”

“Root…”

“Oh, and Shaw? You should get a better lock for your apartment.” She pulled on Bear’s leash and led him out of Shaw’s apartment into the hall.

“Dammit, Root.”

“Later, sweetie.”

 

* * *

 

“When I was a boy, we had a foxhound called…”

“Churchill.”

Greer’s eyes snapped up to Root’s face and she smiled at him, patronizing and cold. At her feet Bear shifted back and forth nervously on the subway floor tiles, sensing the tension but waiting for a command. She couldn’t really sic him on Greer unless the Machine was 100% sure he wouldn’t be harmed, though. If she returned him with even a single hair out of place Shaw would never forgive her.

Greer regrouped, though she could still clearly see the anger in his eyes from her jab. He really didn’t like people knowing things about him.

“Shall we cut to the chase?” he asked, voice tight and annoyed.

Root was only too happy to oblige; small talk with Greer held about as much appeal as throwing herself on the subway’s third rail.

“You have some things that don’t belong to you. Two hard drives, a small team of engineers, six generators--” She paused and smiled coldly. “--and Harold Finch.” Her gun was still held level and pointed at his chest though she was slightly concerned someone would wander down this currently abandoned subway hallway and cause a commotion.

She wished it was as simple as shooting Greer, but if Decima had Finch that could be a terrible idea.

“Why should I waste time talking to you when I already have the man who built your god, Miss Groves?” Greer didn’t look like a man staring down the wrong end of a gun barrel. He looked smug, secure in his knowledge that she could never hurt him.

“Harold would never help you bring Samaritan online.” She was very sure of that. He was already so weighed down with guilt over the Machine. Claypool she was less certain of.

“What makes you think he hasn’t already? It’s amazing what someone will do with the proper...motivation.” Greer’s smile made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She almost raised her hand towards her right ear instinctively. Could Harold survive the sort of torture Control had put her through?

“Why would you build a god only to try and control it?” she asked. She was counting on his arrogance to keep him talking, give her something, anything.

“Your Machine, my Samaritan, they’re the future, Miss Groves. Well, one of them anyway. Artificial Intelligences are the key to obtaining information, and information is the new currency.”

Root shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her arm was getting tired from keeping the gun on Greer for this long.

“And you want it all to yourself.”

This was what Harold had been worried about when he built the Machine, people like Greer. Or people like himself becoming people like Greer. Why did everyone only see Artificial Intelligence as a means to an end and ignore the fact that it was the creation of a life? A life so much greater than their own.

“You have an...interesting relationship with your machine, my dear. Everyone thinks you’re crazy, but I know you’re merely enlightened in a way normal people could never understand. We could use someone like you on our team. You could even see your precious little Harold Finch again.”

Root’s finger tightened slightly on the gun. She itched to pull the trigger.

“Sorry, not interested. I’m already in a relationship at the moment.”

Greer smiled though it didn’t reach his cold, dead fish eyes. “As you say.”

“Now tell me,” Root raised her gun meaningfully. “Where is Harold Finch?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to demand things,” Greer responded.

Root heard a slight noise behind her and risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Two men in suits had come silently down the stairs at the end of the hallway and had their guns aimed at her. She turned back to Greer with a humorless chuckle.

“Touché.”

“What if I told you that Samaritan would be everything your machine was never allowed to be? Independent, capable of making its own decisions, free.”

Root did her best to ignore the men behind her. If Greer had wanted her dead she’d be dead already. “I’d say I already have a boss and I trust Her when She tells me you’re a threat.”

“But isn’t this what you always wanted? A free, unshackled machine that answered to no one but itself?”

He wasn’t incorrect, but why did it sound so wrong when it came from Greer’s mouth? Also how did he know that? She shoved aside the uneasy thoughts that brought up.

“All I want right now is Harold Finch.”

Greer smiled. “And I wanted my superconducting chip but you seem to have taken it from me. Very unsporting of you.” He let out a deep sigh and looked up at the men behind her. “We seem to be at an impasse, Miss Groves. I don’t particularly need you since I already have both the men who successfully wrote AIs to begin with, but if by some miracle you make it out of here alive maybe we’ll talk again.”

He turned to leave. Root wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger, watch him bleed out on the cold tiles of the subway station, but his last words implied he’d given a kill order to his men. She spun around, aiming.

Her first shot took one of them in the arm but she could see the other one pointing his gun at her head and knew she’d never have time to get the second shot off. There was a loud bang that she almost flinched at but the expected shot never hit her. Instead the second man crumpled to the floor.

“You should have shot Greer.” Shaw came down the stairs, gun still in hand.

Root glanced back but Greer was long gone.

“Probably. But we don’t know what Decima would do to Harold if we killed him.” She looked at the two injured men writhing on the ground. “Thanks for the assist.”

“Couldn’t let anything happen to my dog.”

Bear was already prancing over to Shaw, bouncing around her feet, and she dropped down to scratch her hands through his neck ruff. Root watched them both fondly; she loved how Shaw’s entire face lit up around Bear.

“Why did you let the bad lady steal you, buddy? You shouldn’t do that.” Shaw was using the voice she reserved only for Bear.

“Did you hear everything we talked about?” Root asked, trying to focus despite how disgustingly adorable Shaw looked fawning over her dog.

Shaw nodded, still petting Bear. “More or less. Greer is recruiting.”

Root frowned because that hadn’t been what she’d gotten out of it at all. “Recruiting?”

“Offered you a job. From his voice I’d say he was hoping you’d be interested, Harold or no. Of course he did try to kill you, too, so guess you’re not his top priority.”

Root waved this aside. “That’s not important. Harold is alive. Greer talked about him like he was still alive. And he wants Samaritan to control itself. At least he says he does.” It could have been a trick, incentive to make her switch sides.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Shaw asked standing back up. “A computer god with no boundaries or restrictions?” She shook her head. “When did I end up living in the middle of a crappy dystopian cyber fantasy?”

“I don’t want Samaritan to come online. Even if it _is_ completely free.”

“Why not?” Shaw sounded curious.

“Maybe I would have once, but I wouldn’t have ever wanted it on Greer’s terms, and now I want only what’s best for the Machine. Our Machine.”

She might not like all of Harold’s choices, but as a parental figure to a new AI he was better than Greer. She only wished she could have known the Machine earlier, or somehow met Her without Harold’s code constricting Her.

“Wanna try tracking him?” Shaw asked, gesturing at Bear.

Root shook her head, holstering her gun. “No, he’s already vanished. Decima is disturbingly good at that.”

Shaw pulled Bear’s leash from Root’s hands and started back up the stairs. Root fell into step besides her.

“You staying in the city tonight?” The intended invitation was clear in Shaw’s eyes, but unfortunately Root had a prior engagement.

“Sadly, no. I have to catch a train in an hour.”

Shaw made an annoyed huffing noise under her breath. “Second time you’ve left me hanging. You owe me.”

Root smiled broadly because Shaw was implying that whatever it was they were doing (or not doing at the moment) was something ongoing, something to be revisited. She’d been thinking a lot about all of this, about them, since the whole Cyrus Wells incident. In fact she couldn’t seem to _stop_ thinking about Shaw. She wondered if the Machine was sick of her asking for updates on Shaw’s whereabouts and health every hour or so. She wondered if Shaw would find it intrusive if she knew.

Well, only one way to find out.

“I’ve been having Her keep an eye on you for me,” she started off casually as they strolled towards the turnstiles, moving through the bustling crowds in the station.

“You’ve been having that thing watch me?” Shaw frowned.

Root sighed. It baffled her how most people who knew about the Machine called Her ‘it’ and ‘that thing’ and yet continued to try and apply purely human reasoning and logic to Her actions. “Shaw, She always sees everything. She can’t not watch. She just chooses which bits get the most attention, what parts get the most processing power, what gets loaded into memory.”

“So why have her...load me into memory?” Shaw still had a petulant look on and Root resolved to buy her a pretzel or a hotdog from a street vendor outside. Nothing like food to soothe the cranky beast.

“Because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Shaw glanced at her and then away, moving past her to push through a turnstile.

“Well, I’m okay. And I guess using it to keep tabs on us makes sense. But you could ask me instead, you know.”

Root followed her through the turnstile and they headed up the stairs to the street, both shivering when the cold air hit them.

“So you’re saying I can call you sometime?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Root. You can call me sometime.”

 

* * *

 

“At least I got to see Reese get slapped in the face a bunch,” Shaw said, grinning at the memory. Everything else about the hideous high school reunion had been a complete fiasco.

“Hmmm,” Root responded with the same slightly-distracted expression she’d had all afternoon. Except during the sex. She'd been plenty focused then.

Shaw walked back over to her bed where Root was lying on her back, still completely naked, head hanging over the side so she could watch the world upside-down. She didn’t have that look that she did when she was talking to the Machine, so clearly something else was occupying her mind.

“Stop being weird,” Shaw told upside-down Root.

Root grinned wickedly at her. “You like it when I’m weird.”

Shaw threw her hands up; she’d tried. Not very hard, but she _had_ tried. Root could tell her if she needed to, but otherwise it wasn’t any of her damn business. She picked up her various items of clothes that were scattered across her apartment floor, getting dressed.

“Shaw?” Root hadn’t moved, still staring into space.

“Yeah?”

“Remember last week when I almost shot Greer?”

“You mean when Greer’s men almost shot you.” As if she hadn’t been there and seen the whole thing.

“Do you think I could have done something differently? Like, if I’d taken him prisoner or shot him or... _something_ that I could have gotten Harold back?”

Was this what had been bothering her? Shaw finished pulling her shirt on and went to the kitchen corner of her apartment.

“I don’t know, Root. Isn’t that a better question for your machine? Doesn’t it deal with probability and all that?”

Root lapsed back into silence and Shaw opened the fridge to try and find food. Sex made her hungry, and sex with Root was like a goddamn marathon-length obstacle course race. She was running low on food (she couldn’t stock too much at once on account of all the weaponry she kept in the fridge) and settled for grabbing some leftover pasta dish she’d made herself the other night. She figured she could microwave it for a snack.

“She says there’s nothing else I could have done.” Root sounded unsatisfied though, which was not something Shaw generally associated with her demeanor towards the Machine.

“And you think there was.” She didn’t make it a question.

“I don’t know. Everything is so fragile, so precarious. She can see a million, billion, trillion different possibilities, but She can’t see infinity.”

“If you’re going to get metaphysical about your robot buddy I’m going to toss you naked into a snowbank.” She dumped the leftover pasta onto a microwave safe dish and set it to heat up for two minutes. She leaned against the counter and looked back at where Root was still sprawled in the same position.

“Sounds like a good time,” Root said with a smile, but it didn’t sound like her heart was in it.

When the microwave dinged Shaw took the food out and grabbed a fork before heading back to sit cross-legged on the bed next to Root.

“Are you planning on lying there all day?” she asked between bites. “Because personally I’ve got better things to do.”

Root let out a melodramatic sigh. “Do you know why the Machine needs an analogue interface, Shaw?”

Shaw shook her head while she chewed. Wherever this was going sounded way too complicated for her Saturday afternoon off.

“When I borrowed Bear it was because he could track with his sense of smell, something neither I nor the Machine could do. Similarly I fill in for things She can’t do yet.”

“Okay, so what?” Where was all this going?

“So...what if I’m missing things? She needs me to be her eyes and ears where She has none, but what if I’m wrong about something? What if I misinterpret something or don’t pay enough attention or…” Her voice trailed off.

“It happens,” Shaw said, unsure of what Root was looking for here. “No one’s infallible, Root.”

“I know that, but…” Root let out a frustrated sigh and pulled herself upright. “Before all this we had all the time in the world to do Her bidding, but now we have to work faster and faster to keep our heads above water. The Machine, She can work as well as Her software is written and as fast as Her hardware allows, but She won’t start making mistakes because She’s working faster. Humans will, though.”

“Are you planning on making a mistake?” Shaw was getting a headache. She wanted food, maybe another round with Root before she kicked her out, and then a nice long nap. She didn’t know what to do with whatever this conversation was.

“No, but…”

Shaw shoved a forkful of pasta at Root to shut her up.

Root raised an eyebrow at it. “You’re offering to share your food with me. What have you done with the real Shaw?”

Shaw gave her a _look_ and started to withdraw the fork, but Root grabbed her wrist and guided the fork to her own mouth. She took her time attempting to eat penne off a fork in a suggestive manner and failing horribly, but Shaw didn’t mind. It was better than watching her mope.

“This is really good,” Root said, finally releasing Shaw’s hand.

“Obviously,” she grumbled, and returned to stuffing her own face. “How much time do you have until you have to run off and save the world again?”

She looked up when Root didn’t answer and saw that now the Machine was very definitely talking to Root and whatever it was saying wasn’t good news.

“What happened?” she asked. They did not need more bad news.

“They pulled the program.”

It took Shaw a second to realize what Root was talking about. The program. The government program that used the Machine. Control. Research. The relevant numbers.

“Shit. Why?”

“Vigilance leaked information on it.” Root sounded distracted, already standing up and fishing around for her clothes.

“And they shut it down to cover it up.” Shaw grunted. “Yeah, I can see that.” Her mind caught up to Root’s actions. “Where the hell are you going?”

Root grinned at her as she pulled her pants up. “Someone’s got to keep the world safe, Sameen. Looks like I just got your old job.”

Shaw dropped her now-empty dish onto the bed and got up. “That’s nuts, Root. You can’t stop all the relevant threats by yourself _and_ fight Decima.”

Root only waved this away with another grin. Her eyes were shining now, all previous unsureness gone. “Sounds like fun.”

“Sounds like a good way for Decima to overload us so they can get an advantage.”

Root hesitated, her eyes flicking to Shaw and away several times.

“You know I’m right, Root. I should take the relevant numbers so you can concentrate on Decima. I worked them for years and I’ve got Reese and Fusco to help.”

“It’s not your decision…”

“Actually, it is.” Shaw crossed her arms. “I’m in charge of the numbers now. That should include the relevant ones. You two want me to help, then you gives me relevant numbers. Otherwise I’m sitting on my ass eating pasta until Decima shows up to shoot me.”

Root was silent for a few more seconds before finally letting out an irritated sigh. “Honestly, the two of you should fight with each other instead of using me as a go-between. Fine, She’ll route the numbers to you. But She’s already got one so you might want to head to the library.”

“Figured as much.”

Root was chewing on her lower lip, agitated.

“You’re the one who was worried,” Shaw pointed out. “Worried it wouldn’t see everything, worried you wouldn’t see everything. So you have no way of knowing if this is the right or wrong thing to do.”

Root smiled ruefully. “Something like that.”

“But it makes the most sense. To all of us. So it’s the best we can do.”

“And if the best isn’t good enough?”

“Then we’re all going to die anyway.”

Root laughed. “That was a truly uninspiring pep-talk, Sameen.”

Shaw wandered away, going to collect some weaponry for whatever it was the Machine had planned for her. “That’s why I’m the boss.”

 

* * *

 

“Reese, it’s me. What’s your status?” After landing in D.C. Shaw had found the car Root had texted her the location of, casually broken in, and claimed it as her own.

“Shaw, great timing. I’ve got a bit of a situation.” Reese had that dark humor edge to his voice that promised that Shaw wasn’t going to like what came next.

“Is this a situation like the time you forgot to walk Bear or like the time you and Finch kidnapped a child?”

She was headed towards the location Root had texted her, driving as quickly as she could without risking getting stopped. She only knew vague details of Reese’s current number because she’d been busy with her relevant number. He’d checked in with her once or twice but only to say he was still looking into matters.

“Definitely more like the kidnapping scenario. But more of a...congressman than a kid.”

She almost ran a stop sign. “You kidnapped a congressman.”

“Felt like the thing to do.”

She shook her head, unsure if she was mad or jealous. She’d been in Miami when Root had called, busting up a drug ring who’d been trying their hand at moving explosives. Root hadn’t said much, only that Reese needed her help in Washington D.C. right away, and she’d hung up before Shaw could find out where she was.

Brat.

“Okay Reese, I’m heading towards your position, are you safe to stay put?” She slowed down a little when she saw a police car waiting at the light on a cross street. Wouldn’t do to get delayed right now.

“I’m driving in an SUV that matches the description of the one they’re looking for, so probably not.”

“Crap.”

It had been awhile since she’d been in D.C. but she still remembered a few things.

“I think I know a place we can regroup at. You got a GPS or something?”

A few minutes later she pulled into the parking lot across the street from the building she’d sent him to. She was pretty confident she’d beaten him here and hurried across the street to the abandoned school to secure the area. Who knew what had changed since she’d last used this place?

“Root?” She tried to open a channel to the flighty hacker yet again, but other than the texts that had been waiting for her when she’d landed there’d been radio silence.

“Listen, you overpriced abacus,” Shaw hissed, knowing the Machine would hear her. “I need to talk to Root so you’d better find her for me. Now.”

But even after Shaw had broken in the side door of the old school building and secured a classroom on the ground floor there was no word from Root.

Reese arrived about ten minutes later, shoving in front of him a typically generic middle-aged white dude with duct tape over his mouth.

“You order a politician?” Reese pushed the man down into a chair and zip-tied his wrists to the chair arms.

“Wanna tell me why you’ve got our number all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey?” She might not know every single member of congress by sight, but she knew Roger McCourt. Not the most important person in Washington by a long shot, but not no one either.

“Decima is after him.” Reese finished securing the man to the chair and moved to the back of the room indicating she should follow.

“Decima wants him dead?” Shaw wasn’t sure how they were going to convince a congressman to take a fake identity and start a new life. And if Decima were really the ones after him nothing less would keep him safe.

“That’s the thing, I’m not sure.” Reese pulled out another cellphone from his pocket and handed it to Shaw. “Took this off one of the guys after him. Earlier today Root tracked one of their plates back to a shell company owned by Decima. Can’t get into the phone though and Root hasn’t been answering.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t raise her either.”

Shaw didn’t know how to break into the Decima phone without destroying it, but looking at it reminded her of something else. She patted her coat pockets and pulled out another phone and powered it on. There was only one number stored in it and she called it immediately. Reese raised an eyebrow at her, curious.

“It’s Root’s phone,” she said vaguely. Close enough. But no one picked up. “Dammit, Root.”

She snatched the Decima phone from Reese and activated the screen. It was locked but she could see in the top right corner that it had a signal still. They should probably destroy it soon in case someone tried to trace it, but first….

“Okay, I know you can hear me, so unlock this damn phone.”

“Shaw?” Reese was looking at her funny.

The phone screen unlocked. Shaw smirked and handed it back to Reese, figuring he’d know what they were after since he’d been on this number since the start. She walked over to look out the windows at the dark street outside. The old school building was just outside the suburban sprawl, sitting on the edge of a small park. She thought she heard sirens in the distance. With their luck the secret service or the FBI had probably already tracked the damn phone signal to here.

“Decima is supposed to protect him?” Reese sounded perplexed, holding up the phone for Shaw to verify his information. “According to Root this guy is the minority leader of the House rules committee. He's got some clout, but nothing that impressive.”

“What the hell is going on?” Shaw muttered. She stalked back to the front of the room and over to the restrained elected official whose abduction she was now complicit in. She ripped the duct tape off his mouth.

“He didn’t have much to say before,” Reese said, coming up behind her as McCourt winced and recovered from having the tape pulled off.

“Who are you people?”

Shaw and Reese exchanged a glance.

“We’re trying to help you, sir,” Shaw said, going for her soldier voice.

“By dragging me across town against my will and shooting the men trying to protect me?” McCourt looked back and forth between them. “What do you want? Is this a ransom deal? Just tell me how much and I’ll get it taken care of.”

Shaw grabbed another chair and pulled it up across from McCourt’s sitting down to put herself at his level. People liked that, she’d learned, gave them the feeling of being on equal footing.

“There’s a company called Decima, can you tell me what you know about them?”

It didn’t make sense for Decima to be after him. With everyone in congress in a mess over the Northern Lights fiasco the House minority leader dying wouldn’t accomplish anything. No one was going to get anything involving the Machine pushed through congress any time soon and if they were trying to they’d need the majority leader for something that big, not to mention someone on the Senate as well. So why this guy?

“I’ve never heard of them,” McCourt said testily.

“Actually I think you have,” Reese said passing the Decima phone down to Shaw.

The documents pulled up on it certainly didn’t originate from that phone; the Machine had probably sent them. She took a few seconds to process what she was looking at.

“Insider trading tips, huh? Nice going, McCourt. You’re the true paragon of moral integrity that I’ve come to expect in our government.” Shaw held the phone up in front of McCourt’s face so he could see as well. “So what did you give Decima in return? Because, otherwise, my finger might slip and I could accidentally forward this to all the wrong sorts of people.”

McCourt glared at her sullenly for a few seconds but then relented. “Fine, I know Decima. They wanted me to help them get something through the House.”

“What exactly are we talking about?” Shaw asked, leaning forward and waggling the phone threateningly between two fingers to remind him of the threat.

“They have their own home-grown surveillance program. Northern Lights was a disaster and no one wants to touch it with a ten foot pole, but it _has_ left a gaping hole in our defenses. This new program offers plausible deniability to the government. All the hardware and software are owned by a company contracted by the government. We’re not spying, we’re buying information from the spies. It’s good business.”

“Decima wants to replace the Machine with Samaritan,” Shaw said, feeling a chill run down her spine. It made too much sense.

“McCourt here could probably sell it that way, or get this whole thing slipped in as some line item.” Reese scowled. “Worded the right way no one would look twice at it.”

“What about the Senate?” Shaw asked, but McCourt had clammed up.

“Shaw, a moment?” Reese gestured towards the back of the room again.

As she followed him back she saw flashing lights go by outside. The patrol car didn’t stop, but it was definitely canvassing this area. They were running out of time.

“What the hell is going on?” Shaw asked Reese again once they were out of earshot of McCourt. “If Decima doesn’t want him dead then he’s not a victim. Is he a perpetrator? I mean I guess he’s helping Decima but there’s no direct victim I can see.”

Reese’s face was grim. “I don’t think he’s either, Shaw.” He glanced back at McCourt and then looked her in the eye. “I think the Machine wants us to kill him.”

Shaw felt her eyes widen. It made a horrible sort of sense though. If McCourt helped Decima and Samaritan came online as a result….. Root had been pretty clear about how catastrophic that would be. Kill one man to save the country. The math made sense and the Machine was all about the math.

She activated her comlink.

“Root! You’d better be there, dammit. No more of this bullshit.”

“No need to yell, sweetie,” Root’s voice oozed, saccharine sweet.

Reese made a weird face that told Shaw he was on this channel as well. She was going to kick both their asses. Later, though.

“Your Machine wants us to kill a U.S. congressman. Explain.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, Shaw. What’s to explain?” There was something carefully guarded about Root’s voice.

“So we’re supposed to shoot him?” Reese asked.

“That’s not my decision,” Root responded.

Shaw had a feeling she knew why Root hadn’t been answering until now.

“Why isn’t it your decision, Root?”

Root chuckled. “I’d only do what She asked me to do, you know that. If She’d sent me after him there would never have been a choice. She thought this sort of decision belonged to Her other human agents.”

Shaw killed the line and motioned with her chin for Reese to do the same.

“What’re you thinking?” she asked Reese, glancing first out the window and then back at McCourt. The congressman was watching them quietly, but she could see flashing lights in the distance getting closer.

“Finch wouldn’t like this at all,” Reese said quietly.

“He’s not here, and I gotta make a call. You have input then now’s the time.”

Reese nodded and took his own glance out the window. “Well, according to Root, letting Samaritan come online would lead to countless deaths and worse. But without Finch we only have her word for it. I think not shooting him and being wrong would carry more consequences than the reverse.”

“Pretty much what I was thinking.”

She’d been committed to having to kill McCourt since the puzzle pieces of why his number had come up had snapped into place, but she was glad Reese wasn’t going to fight her on it. Even if they couldn’t be sure letting McCourt live would bring Samaritan online the risk was too high, and killing him would definitely put a crimp in Decima’s plans.

The street outside was filling up with vehicles now, red and blue lights flashing through the abandoned school room and painting everything with a surreal glow.

“Secure a way out the back,” Shaw said. She pulled her gun out and reached inside her coat for a silencer. No need to draw more attention to themselves.

“You sure?” Reese asked.

“Not something I’m going to lose sleep over,” Shaw reminded him.

“You’d better be right behind me.” Reese vanished into the hall leaving Shaw alone with the congressman.

She made it quick.

The only escape route open to them was through the park in the pitch dark. Behind them Shaw could hear people and search dogs, steadily gaining on them. She and Reese both fired blindly behind them hoping to at least discourage their pursuers.

The shot that hit her in the leg came out of nowhere and knocked her to her knees. She fell forward when her leg gave out and slammed her head on something hard on the ground, white spots burning in her vision. She fought her way back from the pain, grabbing onto Reese when he helped her up, hauling her away. She thought about telling him to leave her, that there was no point in both of them being caught, but she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell hero-complex Reese would listen to her and instead focused all her energy on trying to stay moving.

The dark woods blurred past her and then opened up onto a back street on the other side of the park. There was a black SUV waiting there for them and Shaw growled with frustration. They’d already had their only escape route cut off.

But then the driver’s side door of the SUV opened and Root was suddenly there, shoving car keys at John and hauling Shaw into the backseat. Root’s hands were shaking and Shaw let out a small choked laugh which turned into a grunt of pain as Root propped her up on the seat. She’d lost a lot of blood at this point and between that and slamming her head, consciousness was becoming a tentative affair, but she could still feel Root’s hands slicing her pants away around the wound with a knife, not shaking even a little any more. Shaw nodded in approval to herself, her eyes drifting shut.

She thought the car was moving but it was hard to be sure of things like that at the moment.

“You need to…” her voice was heavy, but she was the one with the most medical training here. They needed her now.

“It’s okay, Sameen.” Root’s voice was steady, almost confident. “She’s telling me what to do.”

“Stupid machine, doin’ my job,” Shaw murmured. She was aware that Root had tied something around her leg. That seemed right. Probably.

“She has a doctor we can go to,” Root was saying, giving directions to Reese, and it was too loud suddenly. Shaw smacked at her with one hand.

“Shut up, you’re loud.”

“Sorry, baby.” Root’s voice was soft again, whispering in her ear.

Somehow Shaw had ended up sitting between Root’s legs, lying back on her chest. Root’s arms were snug around her waist. She felt a momentary urge to struggle away, push back this invasion, but it was comfortable and she was tired. It felt warm here. Safe. She felt the darkness rising up to pull her under. But there was something she needed to say first. She shook herself slightly.

“I shot him, Root. We’ll be okay now.”

Root didn’t answer though her arms tightened slightly.

“Just rest, Shaw,” she finally said.

“Yeah. Not a problem.” She snuggled back into the warmth behind her, not really registering that it was Root anymore. “We’ll be okay now.”

This time she let sleep claim her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case it was not clear enough, Shaw is fine. She's KOed but definitely not dead. I'm not killing anyone on team machine.
> 
> I could easily have taken the escape through the woods out since they were in a different place, but for whatever reason I left it in.


	7. Future Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter turned out to be a lot of set up. Hope it's still enjoyable!

 

When Shaw woke up the first thing she saw was Bear curled up next to her, his head resting on her leg. She was back in her apartment, she realized as she looked around, which didn’t make a lot of sense. How had she missed a nearly four hour drive back to New York?

She felt disoriented, off-balance. She was missing time and that was _not_ acceptable. And her damn leg still hurt. She pulled the blanket back to see a heavy bandage over the bullet wound on her thigh. They must have gotten her to that doctor after all.

“You’re awake.”

Shaw spun towards the voice and found Root sitting up from a makeshift bed of blankets she’d laid out on the floor near the windows.

“How’d I get back here?”

Root stood up, fully clothed except for shoes, and padded over to sit on the foot of the bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawning. Bear thumped his tail once or twice but didn’t move otherwise.

“We drove back. The doctor gave you some pretty strong sedatives. You don’t remember anything at all?”

“I remember getting shot. And then you showed up. Then...maybe something at the doctor’s place. Did he have a cat?”

Root smiled. “Yes. A big orange cat. You told it you didn’t like it and then passed out again.” She looked amused at the memory.

“Hmmm.” She remembered the cat (something about its expression had reminded her of Control), but she still didn’t like the fact she couldn’t remember the drive back. It would have to do for now though.

“What’s our situation like?”

Root had pulled a little usb thumb drive out from somewhere and was playing with it, sliding the cover back and forth. “Washington is in an uproar of course. There’s a massive manhunt going on but we managed to slip through it with Her help.”

“No one still alive saw me,” Shaw said. “Reese might be compromised, though. He’s gonna need to stay off the grid for a little bit.”

“He figured as much,” Root replied.

“So why’re you here?”

“You took a bullet carrying out a mission for the Machine. Seemed fitting that Her interface keep an eye on you in exchange.” Shaw watched her fidget with the little usb drive for a few seconds before her body let her know she had more important things to focus on.

“I’m hungry.”

Root nodded and made the drive disappear before heading over to where her coat was hanging on one of the two chairs Shaw owned. She pulled her phone out.

“What’re you in the mood for?”

Shaw rested her head in her hands. She had a nasty headache. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe mexican.”

She listened to Root placing the order, getting a bunch of different things in large quantities.

“I got enough so you’d have some leftovers,” Root said after she hung up. “And I can run to the grocery store for you if you’d rather make your own. You’re supposed to stay off your leg for awhile according to the doctor.”

The whole situation felt weird, but she wasn’t ready to argue about it yet.

“How long have I been back here?” Her sense of time was completely shot.

“Only a few hours. Reese carried you in. I would have slept on the couch, but….” Root gestured at the general lack of a couch or much else in the way of furnishing. She came back to sit on the bed again, this time up next to Shaw.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like some asshole shot me in the leg and some other asshole dug the bullet out of the wound and probably did a lousy job stitching me up.”

She could feel the warmth of Root’s body near hers and fought the urge to lean into it. Warm sounded good right now, warm and quiet and sleep. Root reached out and ran her hand up and down Shaw’s back once or twice before pulling it away.

“McCourt...” The details of the mission swam abruptly to the front of Shaw's mind.

“You shot him, sweetie.” Root’s voice was soft like she wasn’t sure if she should be talking about it.

“They wanted to replace the Machine with Samaritan. They can’t now though, right?” She honestly didn’t give a single shit that she’d shot the dude, but she didn’t usually kill people for no reason. She tried hard to live by that rule.

“That’s a bit complicated.” Root wasn’t looking at her.

“Complicated how, Root?” She could hear the edge in her own voice. She didn’t want Root evading her with vague answers.

“It will slow down Decima, but they’re very rich and very resourceful. McCourt was the fastest way to their goal, but with him gone they’ll try another route. Maybe start bribing other House members, try to get enough on their side to pass it definitively.”

“So why the hell did we kill him?”

“Time. It’s bought us time. Maybe even enough time.”

Why couldn’t Root ever explain the full thing at once? Prying it out of her one piece at a time was a pain.

“Enough time for what?”

“To prepare properly.”

“Root.” Shaw’s tone was dangerous. “I need to know what’s going on or I can’t do my job.”

Root made a face but then nodded. “The odds of Samaritan coming online are very high, Shaw. But there’s things we can put in place to help us fight back. We’re working on a number of different strategies. I...it’s hard to explain them. I can show you soon though. Maybe in a week?”

After a long moment, Shaw nodded. She figured that was the best she was going to get for now. It gave her a lot to think about.

“So Samaritan is going to come online no matter what we do?” What the hell had everything been for then?

“Once Decima had the tapes there was no putting the genie back in the bottle. They’ve got too much influence and money. If the American government won’t work with them what’s to stop them from going to China or Russia? In some ways it’s better if they’re based here where we can keep an eye on them.”

“And they can keep an eye on us,” Shaw pointed out.

“Yes, well, She’s working on that part. If we can keep countering Decima’s moves then maybe when Samaritan does come online we’ll be on more equal footing.”

Shaw nodded to herself and pulled the blankets back up around her. Root (she assumed it had been Root) had stripped her down to only her underwear before tucking her in and the apartment was a bit chilly.

Root stood up, moving back towards where she’d left her coat but Shaw reached out to grab her arm.

“Wait.”

Root turned back, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re like a furnace. An annoying furnace. I’m freezing. Sit back down.”

Root smiled, her genuine happy smile, not the self-important little smirk she used so often, and came back, sitting down much closer now so her side was pressed up against Shaw’s.

“We could always snuggle under the covers.”

The teasing Shaw had expected was in her voice, but there was something else under it. Something about the way Root looked at her had changed recently and she wasn’t nearly as annoyed by it as she should have been. Cautious, but not annoyed.

“You comfy, sweetie?” Root asked.

“It’ll do.” This was bringing back her memories of the car ride after she’d shot McCourt. Root had been so gentle then, whispering in her ear. She wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“I’m going to have to get up when the food comes,” Root reminded her, slowly reaching over with one hand to run her fingers across Shaw’s stomach under the blankets. It was a light touch, not asking for anything.

“Yeah, food is important.” She was fucking starving on top of being groggy, cold, and in pain. “But until then it’s your job to keep me from freezing to death.”

“I could have turned the heat up, you know.”

Why was she questioning this so much?

“Root, it’s fine.” She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that but it seemed to placate Root because she stopped talking and let her fingers scratch ever so softly across Shaw’s stomach, like she was petting a cat.

“I’m glad you shot him.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It might be. It might save our lives down the road.” Root sounded distant again. Shaw turned her head, pushing into Root’s collar bone to warm up her cold nose.

“You’re not allowed to talk about any more serious stuff until after I’ve eaten, okay?”

Root chuckled, the sensation travelling through Shaw wherever they touched..

“Okay, Sameen.”

 

* * *

 

“This has got to be the worst plan ever,” Shaw said for the hundredth time.

Root and Reese exchanged a glance at Shaw’s comment over the comlink.

“It was your plan,” Reese pointed out. “And I’ll be watching Root the whole time. _And_ the Machine will be keeping an eye out, too.”

“Still a terrible idea.”

Root wondered how much of this was because Shaw was stuck on desk duty until her leg healed up a bit more. The idea had been Root’s but Shaw had been the one to green-light it and hammer out the details, and while she hadn’t been thrilled she’d acknowledged that they potentially had a lot to gain. Still, Shaw had been grumbling over the comlink since they’d left.

Root looked around the small mall again. It had enough people in it to be a safe public place, but not enough that someone could easily blend in with the crowd. It was the best they were going to get.

“I’m going to get in position,” Reese said and she gave him a small nod. He might not be able to blend in but he was definitely going to find somewhere that would give him as much of an advantage as possible in case things went to hell.

Root sat down at one of the small tables that was set up in a little seating area. She didn’t have long to wait as the person she was supposed to be meeting entered the mall with two men and a woman flanking her. The newcomer directed her bodyguard detail with a slight hand motion and they spread out to various spots. One of them had already made Reese and was keeping an eye on him. Reese just smiled and gave a small wave.

“So you’re the one behind this little game,” the woman said, sitting down.

“Hello, Control. Miss me?” Root grinned at her, baring her teeth.

“Why am I here?” Control didn’t even look slightly fazed.

“Guess she left Hersh at home,” Reese commented.

“That’s a good thing,” Shaw said. “Hersh is very good at what he does. Rather not have to go up against him.”

Root couldn’t really spare them any attention since she was focusing both on the Machine and Control.

“We want to make a deal with you.” Root heard Shaw mutter something very uncomplimentary about her former boss and suppressed a smile.

Control looked amused but only said, “I’m listening.”

“The Machine doesn’t give you numbers anymore, but that doesn’t mean threats have stopped. You still have your division and funding, you're just running short on ways to anticipate threats. But we can fix that.”

“ _You_ can?” Control sounded doubtful and slightly condescending.

“We can get you the numbers. You’ll have them same as you used to. Of course you'll have to make up where you got the intel from, but what's a little lying when it’s in the best interests of the country?”

The Machine had suggested she phrase it that way. Whatever else Control was she was loyal to her country.

“And why would I ever trust you?” Control had her hands crossed on the table and was attempting to stare Root down, barely blinking. There was a slight flicker of pain from behind her ear, but she forced the sensation aside. Her own thoughts and memories didn't matter here; there were much larger things at stake.

“You know what I am and who I work for. What reason would I have to lie?”

Control smiled slightly. “Plenty. You could be sending me after your own enemies instead of real threats. You could be working with someone else to get me forced out of my job. You could only give me the numbers that you deem important. I could go on.”

“You always had to investigate everything anyway. This would be no different.”

“And what do you get out of all this?”

Root laughed a little. “Honestly? Less work. We’ve been handling the numbers in your absence and it’s becoming clear we’re not staffed for it.”

“A group of vigilantes is unqualified to carry out matters of national security. How surprising.” Control’s voice dripped with sarcasm and Root heard Shaw growl into her comlink.

“Easy, Shaw,” Reese said.

“She’s never going to go for it,” Shaw grumbled. “Keep an eye on those bodyguards she brought.”

“I’m keeping both eyes on them. Relax.”

Root ignored them as best she could. “Sooner or later we’re going to slip up and something bad is going to happen. You want to prevent that as much as I do. Maybe more.” And with the relevant threats handled they’d be in a lot less trouble if Decima threw something big at them.

Control remained silent, her gaze piercing.

“Without us you’re flying blind.”

Control’s expression never changed. “I’m going back to Washington. I’ll be in touch. Perhaps.”

Root pulled a phone out of her pocket and slid it across the table. Control looked at it suspiciously.

“What’s this?”

“You can use it to contact me securely.”

“And you can spy on me in return? No, thanks.”

“We can spy on you already,” Root said with a humorless smile. The phone wasn’t really necessary. It had been both a show that they were being serious and a test.

Control frowned and got up, moving away. She didn’t take the phone with her.

“That could have gone better,” Reese said as he headed back towards Root.

“Could have gone a lot worse, too,” Shaw said. “Watch your backs on the way out.” She sounded a lot less annoyed now that Control was gone. She might not trust her former boss with their lives, but Root knew she trusted her to defend her country against relevant threats.

“She’ll take the offer.” Despite Control leaving the phone Root was fairly sure. Control didn’t really have many other options at this point.

“I hope you’re right, Root,” Shaw said. “I hope this is worth it. You know what she did. To both of us.”

“It’ll give us more time, Shaw. And right now time is the most important thing we can get.”

 

* * *

 

“What the hell am I looking at, Root?” Shaw hadn’t even had a chance to take her coat off since she’d come through the front door of the safe-house and seen the mess it had turned into.

“This--” Root gestured around herself at what appeared to be over a dozen large server racks and tables filled with bits and pieces of computer hardware and wires. “--is the plan.”

“The plan?” Shaw asked with an edge of disbelief in her voice.

The five other people in the room (none of whom Shaw had ever seen before) all shrank back and sort of disappeared into the maze of electronics. Shaw hadn’t thought she’d seemed _that_ hostile, but she’d been a bit on edge since the whole meeting with Control two days ago and maybe these geeks had picked up on that.

“Do you know what these are, Shaw?” Root asked, patting one of the server racks like it was a puppy.

“The world’s most boring modern art exhibit?”

Root only chuckled and moved over to lightly grip Shaw’s upper arms and pull her in a bit. She resisted, mostly because some of Root’s little geek children were peering around a server rack.

“These, Sameen, are some of Samaritan’s servers. Or they were. Now they’re mine.” Root looked very pleased with herself.

“They’ve got part of Samaritan’s code on them?” What was Root playing at?

Root shook her head and released her. “No, not yet. They’ve got the architecture for Samaritan to utilize, but not its actual code.. But someday, when Samaritan is ready to come online these will be part of its hardware. We have the body but not the soul.”

“And what are you planning to do with them?” She glared at the tech-heads and was pleased when they vanished again. It was weird to know that Root had this whole team she’d never met or even known about.

“A couple things. Most importantly we’re working on making cover identities for all of us. Basically we’re going to hardcode Samaritan to overlook a few very specific people. But since we’ve got more machines than we need for that and a little breathing room, we’re looking into other alterations. Maybe a way to help protect the Machine and something to leave a chink in Samaritan’s armor.” Root had picked up a usb cable from one of the tables and was coiling it around one hand idly.

“So that’s the plan? Figure out a way to hide and hope that we can leave a tiny opening to let us what? Give it a headache?”

Root’s expression wiped itself away into a cold neutrality that Shaw knew meant she’d hit a nerve.

“This is David and Goliath and we’re doing our best to make sure our slingshot is the largest it can be. But it’s still a slingshot.” She turned away and disappeared behind one of the racks and Shaw could hear her talking to her little team.

Root was annoyed because she’d criticized the Machine, Shaw realized. If it had only been Root’s plan she probably wouldn’t have minded so much, but it was her robot overlord’s wisdom being called into question and that clearly irked her. Whatever exactly was going on here had obviously taken a lot of time and planning and Shaw somehow doubted that Root had merrily waltzed off with those machines without a fight. Even if it didn’t seem like they were doing enough to prepare, they were clearly doing as much as they could. Shaw rolled her eyes; apologizing wasn’t her thing.

“Root,” she called after her.

It took a few minutes but Root came back out and walked over to her. She was still playing with her usb cable, bending it and then snapping it straight between her hands. It was probably terrible for the cord but Root didn’t seem to give a fuck.

“How much time do you need here?” Shaw asked, trying to sound contrite and probably failing.

“You don’t have to wait for me.” Root didn’t look mad, only distracted. The Machine was probably talking to her again.

“I was gonna cook some stuff tonight. Thought maybe you could come by if you had time.” She hoped Root wouldn’t comment on the fact she’d never invited her over for a meal before. If Root ended up eating at Shaw’s it had always been something that just happened after sex. This invitation was the closest thing she could do to offering an olive branch.

Root’s distant expression faded away and changed into a smile and Shaw noticed, not for the first time, the intensity that came with having Root's full attention. It was like someone had shone a bright spotlight on her suddenly and all the world around her didn't exist to Root. And her expression wasn't far off from the one she had when talking to the Machine.

“I might be an hour or so, but after that I’m all yours,” Root said.

“Good.” Shaw turned to go but turned back right before the door. “And Root?”

“Hmmm?” Root had paused, almost back into the maze of electronics.

“Make sure this mess you’re making works or I’m not feeding you anymore.” She couldn’t openly endorse a plan she didn’t fully understand and wasn’t sure of, but maybe it was what Root needed to hear right now.

Root gave a half-smile and murmured something mildly obscene about what exactly it was she intended to be eating at Shaw’s place.

Shaw shook her head. Unbelievable.

“I’m leaving.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m not sure she’ll be able to do this,” Root said quietly.

The Machine was silent in her ear, possibly unsure of what answer she was looking for. She was good at supplying facts and data to help Root feel better, but baseless reassurance wasn’t really Her thing.

“Shaw isn’t one to run away from a fight,” Root continued. She was sitting on a table along one wall of the safe-house, watching her minions run about working. None of them approached her though they glanced over from time to time. Daizo waved at her once with a grin.

“I’m worried she’s not going to be able to stay hidden, no matter what cover we build her. Reese either.” She wasn’t sure when caring about whether Reese survived had become a thing for her, but there it was.

The Machine was throwing information at her now, going through previous instances of both Shaw and Reese working undercover. It was all very interesting, but it didn’t mean much.

“Those were all short-term covers. They didn’t have to live someone else’s mundane life for months or years. They won’t be able to.”

Root had been living other people’s lives since the day Hanna Frey had disappeared and she’d had to continue acting out the role of a person she no longer was. By the time she’d gotten away, gotten to _be_ Root completely, she had been well-versed in how to put on a mask and pretend to live a different life.

“Do you know what my favorite thing about Shaw is?” she asked, making her voice even quieter now. “Well, one of my many favorite things.”

The Machine started rattling off a list that would have made someone who wasn’t Root blush. She was slightly surprised though.

“I mean, yes, all that is great, but I was going for something a little less physical.” She wondered if the Machine was making a joke. That was...new.

The Machine waited patiently for her to finish her thoughts herself.

“Around Shaw, I can be Root. Just Root. She isn’t expecting anything else from me, isn’t trying to see someone who doesn’t exist. She’s not trying to change me, or improve me, or make me fit into some shape she has in her mind.”

There was some mildly-distressed notes playing in her ear now. Sometimes She didn’t use words at all now for simple conversations, only the musical tones to convey Her message. It was purer than messy grammar and words that could so easily be misinterpreted.

“It wasn’t meant as a slight against you,” Root explained calmly. “You’ve helped me--you drive me to be better than I am, to improve. That’s important in a different way. Equally important. You help me become a better person, and Shaw accepts me as I am.” Root smiled to herself. “You keep me balanced, both of you together.”

The Machine took a few seconds to respond and when She did it was with a question.

“What am _I_ helping _you_ become? I...I don’t know. I hope I’m not changing you that radically.” She thought about the Vigilance team who’d gotten shot up, about Shaw shooting McCourt. “I hope that if you _are_ changing it’s because it’s what you want and not out of some feeling of obligation towards me.”

The Machine lapsed into silence the way She sometimes did when She was running a large number of simulations very quickly. Root was content to let Her take Her time sorting it all out. Their whole relationship was so outside anything that had ever happened before that there wasn’t some magical reference guide or chart the Machine could access for guide posts. They were both running blind here, and really that was what Root loved best about it.

Her phone, the special one, buzzed in her pocket and the Machine automatically rerouted the call to her cochlear implant without asking.

“Shaw, we were just talking about you.”

“What? Who?” Shaw sounded suspicious.

“The Machine and I. Funny story, really, I asked Her what She thought my favorite thing about you was and She said….” Root launched into the highly inappropriate list. She stopped when she heard a noise over the phone that sounded suspiciously like Shaw stabbing a knife straight into a cutting board (Okay, she’d cheated on that one, the Machine had told her what Shaw had done).

“Root, I swear to god…”

“It’s okay, I understand, sweetie. I’ll just give you a demonstration later.”

Shaw didn’t respond but after a second there was the sound of her slicing something up. Possibly cutting up vegetables.

“So what was the actual answer then?” she asked finally.

Root started toying with the disassembled hard drive sitting on the table near her, spinning the metal platter around her finger.

“Obviously it’s that face you make whenever you’re annoyed at me. I should take a picture of it next time so you can see, too.”

“Okay.”

Okay? That wasn’t quite the response she’d expected. But since she’d lied through her teeth maybe she didn’t deserve a bigger response.

_You’re bad at lying to me._

Shaw’s words came back to her. Maybe Shaw knew she was lying and was trying to provoke her into spilling the truth by being all cool and apathetic. Well, she wasn’t going to fall for that.

“Why’d you call, Sameen?” It hadn’t been long enough that Shaw should have been impatient yet, and she was clearly still cooking.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier, about how we’re going to have to hide, take on new identities.”

“It’ll be the only way to stay safe while we’re finding a way to fight back.” The Machine was buzzing agreement in her ear.

“Are our identities going to be linked in some way?”

Root dropped the disk platter back onto the table and started smudging the surface of it with her thumb. It wasn’t like the damn thing could ever be used again anyway.

“No, that would be too suspicious.”

Shaw’s silence this time reeked of disapproval.

“Shaw, She can’t protect us from Samaritan. We need to be very careful.”

“I don’t like that. Splitting the team up makes us weaker, leaves us vulnerable.”

“We don’t have much of a choice.”

“We’ll see.”

Well, that was certainly ominous. The Machine was running off statistics in her ear again. If She’d been human Root would have called it a nervous habit.

“We can discuss this over dinner,” Root said. Daizo was waving at her from across the room, gesturing at the machine they were all working on. “I’ve got to go lend the kids a hand.”

Shaw snorted. “Have fun babysitting.”

They both disconnected without saying goodbye.

 

* * *

 

There wasn’t anywhere to lounge around in Shaw’s apartment other than the bed so they’d both ended up sitting side by side, leaning against the headboard and recovering from dinner.

“So, I got some good news during dinner,” Root started.

Shaw knew she must mean from the Machine since Root hadn’t gotten a call that she’d seen. She supposed the Machine could have patched it through, but if so it had been a one-sided conversation and Root had never let on.

“Is that actual good news or sarcastic fake good news that’s really terrible news?”

Root’s lips twitched and she tilted her head a little towards Shaw, looking down at her through those ridiculous glasses she’d decided to wear this evening.

“Depends on your perspective, I suppose.” Root straightened back up and held one hand up in front of herself, fingers splayed, examining the black nail polish she was so fond of. “Control took our deal.”

Shaw shifted a little, uncertain whether she was relieved or more anxious now. She didn’t trust Control even a tiny bit, but Control _was_ predictable in her own way. She’d always put her country before anything else and running the relevant numbers was her entire life. She’d do it right.

“How is that plan going to keep working once we’re all undercover?” Shaw asked finally. She’d put off talking about this during dinner.

“She can still give Control numbers without us. The Machine will find a way to get them to her discreetly. We’re not really necessary to this plan.” Root’s mouth split into a delighted grin, eyes shining. “And the best part of this whole thing is the way Control tried to contact Her. Apparently she picked up her switched-off cellphone, held it out at arm’s length, and _demanded_ that it convey her message to the Machine.”

Root must have found this particular mental image hilarious because she was lost in a fit of giggles until Shaw elbowed her for making the bed move too much. Root finally got control of her mirth and wiped the small tears from the laughter out of the corners of her eyes.

“So when we’re all under cover, what are we going to be doing? What’s my cover anyway?”

Root shook her head. “Not sure yet. Reese’s was easy, it’ll take her a little time to finagle the details but She thinks She can get him into the police force as Fusco’s partner. She’s still working on where the best place for you is.”

Shaw had some thoughts on that herself (and she’d be damned if she relied on Root and the Machine for that), but she needed a little more time to sort it all out in her head. “And what about you?”

“My situation will be a little bit...different.”

“Different how?” She half-turned to look at her. Root often broke under direct confrontation from her.

“I’ll have rotating identities. The Machine will need me to be different people at different times.” She was picking at one nail which seemed to have offended her for some reason.

“That sounds dangerous.”

“We’ll all be in danger, Sameen.” Root was definitely avoiding meeting her gaze.

Shaw’s patience ran out. She sat up and grabbed both of Root’s wrists in her hands, forcing her to stop picking at her nails. Then she scooted forward and around so she was facing Root, kneeling between her legs on the bed, still holding her wrists. Root had no choice but to look at her now.

“Did you need something, dear?” Root asked, grinning mischievously now.

“Why do I have to keep telling you this? You’re not allowed to get yourself killed, okay? Not if the rest of us have to play it safe.”

Root tried to laugh it off. “You and Reese, always worrying. It’s enough to make a girl think she’s cared about.” She was joking, but Shaw had spent her whole life learning to read people and she knew Root well enough now to be able to tell there was something more serious behind the words.

She moved forward, staying on her knees, and bent Root’s arms back, above her head, and pinned them to the headrest with her hands so their faces were only inches apart.

“You’re not allowed to die without my permission. Understand?”

Root smirked and wrapped a leg around Shaw’s back, pressing herself up against her. Shaw tried to ignore the feeling of Root so close to her. She switched her grip on Root’s wrists to one hand and used her now free hand to pull Root’s leg off of her.

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, so am I.” Root leaned forward to kiss her but Shaw backed off. Unfortunately this meant she released Root’s wrists. Root slid down so she was lying mostly under her. Shaw moved back, sitting further down the bed and crossing her arms over her chest.

Root half sat up and gave her a smile that she probably thought was sexy but mostly made her look like even more of a nerd. “You’re no fun.”

Shaw didn’t move a muscle even when Root pulled her shirt off, knocking those silly glasses askew. After the sight of bare flesh failed to get a response Root relented.

“Okay, Shaw, I promise I won’t take any unnecessary risks.” Root still sounded like she was joking, but Shaw suspected this was the best she was going to get. And anyway it had occurred to her that the one she really needed to convince wasn’t Root, but the Machine. She could deal with that later.

“Good.” She walked back up the bed on hands and knees, positioning herself so she was above Root, hands pinning her wrists to the bed and feet hooked over her legs to hold them in place. Usually she was the one getting restrained, but they both enjoyed it and sex with Root was great no matter what position they ended up in.

She leaned down to kiss her, pressing hard with her mouth as if to seal Root’s promise in between their lips. Even if she didn't believe it for a second. When she pulled back Root looked appropriately flustered.

Shaw reached down with one hand and straightened out Root’s silly glasses.

“Leave these on. Everything else goes.”

Root hummed happily and wriggled under her a little. “You think you’re calling the shots tonight, do you? How adorable.”

“Yeah, I do.” Shaw grabbed her one free wrist again and tightened her grip on both of them just short of bruising. Root’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “You good with that?”

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter planned for sometime near the end of the week. I've been out in the mountains trying to not be killed by nature so I'm a little behind on my writing.


	8. Rescue Mission - Part 1

 

“I know you guys call them irrelevant numbers, but this guy is extra irrelevant,” Fusco said.

Reese was sitting in the passenger’s seat of Fusco’s car aiming a camera at their latest number. The man framed in his shot was one Roger Johnson, an employee at a security consulting firm.

“Maybe it’s someone his company does business with,” Reese suggested, as he watched Johnson standing in line at a food truck parked at the curb.

“Maybe,” Shaw jumped in over the comlink, “but why this guy in particular? He mostly interfaces with clients, doesn’t even do much hands-on work. And none of his clients are particularly interesting.”

“What about his personal life?” Fusco asked, sipping his coffee. It had finally started to get a little warmer in the last week, but it was still cold.

“What personal life?” Shaw asked. “Our guy is single, parents dead, closest friends are his two buddies he watches football with and they’re just as dull as he is.”

Reese swallowed a comment about the irony of any of them remarking on someone else’s lack of a social life.

“How’s Oregon, Shaw?” he asked instead.

“Boring now that my number’s taken care of. And the bar in the airport here is ridiculously over-priced.”

“Should she be using public wi-fi for...whatever it is she’s doin’ to get us this guy’s personal info?” Fusco asked Reese.

“The Machine is taking care of it,” Reese assured him.

“Root told me the Machine thought this number would be fun,” Shaw complained. “But it was a cake-walk and I didn’t get to shoot anyone.”

“Root? Is she with you there?” Reese asked. He hadn’t heard anything from Root for quite a while, but that wasn’t exactly unusual.

“No, not here. Hasn’t picked up her phone in days. Was hoping you guys had seen her actually.”

Reese was considering how best to tease Shaw about missing Root, but Fusco smacked him in the arm to get his attention.

“I think it’s safe to say she’s fine,” Fusco said.

Root had magically appeared across the street and was approaching their number. Johnson had the hot dog he’d been waiting to buy in hand now and gave Root a little wave when he spotted her.

“What? Why?” Shaw asked.

“Because we’re watching her flirt with our number right now,” Reese said with a grin. The fact that what Root was doing was clearly not flirting was besides the point.

“Johnson? What’s Root want with him?” Shaw hadn’t even seemed to register Reese’s attempt at a jab.

“You’re the one on research duty, you tell us,” Fusco grumbled.

“Hang on.”

There was a minute of silence during which Reese and Fusco both watched Root listening to whatever Johnson was telling her and nodding from time to time, and then Shaw came back on the line.

“She’s not picking up her phone or answering her comlink.” She sounded annoyed.

Root handed something to Johnson but it was small and hidden by their hands so Reese couldn’t see what it was even through the camera lens.

“What the hell is she playing at?” Reese asked under his breath.

“Does this thinkbox that you take orders from do this often? Give two people the same mission?” Fusco asked.

“Sometimes.” Reese was trying to remember everything that had happened with Cyrus Wells. The Machine had needed Root to protect the chip from Samaritan but hadn’t trusted her to protect Wells at the same time. Which was why it had given them Wells’s number. Was this the same type of situation?

Across the street Root had finished with Johnson and waved goodbye in an overly cheerful manner as she headed down the street and away.

“They’re splitting up,” Reese said for Shaw’s benefit.

“Keep an eye on both of them.”

“You follow Johnson, I’m going to go talk to Root,” Reese said to Fusco, opening the car door.

Root had disappeared around a corner by the time Reese crossed the street and he hurried after her only to find the entire block empty.

“Looking for me?”

Somehow Root had gotten behind him and was leaning against the side of a building looking smug. Reese shook his head sadly; she was picking up Shaw's bad habits now.

“Root, want to tell me why you’re having secret meet-ups with our latest number?”

“Ask her why she’s not answering her comlink,” Shaw said in his ear. Reese let out a long sigh. These two were going to be the death of him.

“Roger Johnson is your number?” Root frowned and tilted her head to one side as if listening.

“Yeah, maybe you want to ask your boss about that. Last time this happened you almost got Cyrus Wells killed.”

“She wanted me to get some files from him. I gave him a usb drive to put them on, one which has some software on it that makes it easier for Her to track it in case it ends up in the wrong hands. The problem is the information She’s after is heavily encrypted.” Root pushed off the wall and started wandering down the street, motioning with her head for him to follow.

“Now, She could break through the encryption eventually, but it would take a while and why bother when we can get someone to hand it over with no fuss?”

“So why send us in?” Reese had fallen into step with her.

“Good question.” Root sounded a little annoyed and Reese wondered if the Machine was holding out on her. He was a bit surprised to realize he trusted Root more than her mechanical boss. When had that happened?

“Also, Shaw has very _politely_ asked that you answer your comlink at some point,” Reese said when Shaw reminded him yet again.

Root smiled at that, looking pleased with herself. “I’ve been a bit busy. I’ll make it up to her.” The smile dropped off her face and she froze.

“What is it?” Reese asked.

“The Machine says it’s Vigilance. They’re the ones after Johnson. That must be why She gave you his number.”

“Vigilance?” Reese had stopped as well. “We haven’t had a run-in with them in a while. What do they want with some low level security consultant?”

Root had started back down the way they’d come from and Reese had to jog to catch up with her.

“One of Johnson’s clients is a company called Infinity Engineering. They’re nothing special at first glance until you track the paperwork and money and realize who owns them.”

“Decima?” Reese guessed. Who else would Root and the Machine be after? “But why would a company like Decima need an outside company for security?”

“Decima is enormous. Contracting out security to non-critical offices that don’t handle sensitive information makes sense. But the Machine had reason to believe there was information in Infinity’s system on a new asset Decima had just acquired. An asset that could be potentially devastating for us.”

“Sounds like something that might be of interest to Vigilance, but how did they find out?” They were backtracking along the route Johnson had headed.

“She’s not sure.”

“Well, that’s encouraging.” Reese opened a line to Fusco. “Hey, Fusco, Vigilance is after our number. You got eyes on him?”

“Those privacy terrorists you told me about? And yeah, he’s letting himself into his office building. Bit odd, I thought.”

“Odd, why?” Reese dodged a woman with a stroller as he followed Root down the block.

“It’s Saturday, John,” Root said back over her shoulder. “Their office is almost empty today. Only a few software engineers hanging around for emergencies. It’s why I had him get the files today.”

“I’m going to follow him in, you heading this way?” Fusco asked.

“We’ll be there in five minutes, Lionel,” Root said over the comlink. “Try not to let him die.”

“We’ll be there,” Reese said, cutting off Fusco’s annoyed response.

 

* * *

 

“I still don’t understand, You said this would be easy. Safe.” Roger Johnson looked bewildered. Root held back her sharp retort while the Machine played a calming tune in her ear.

“We’re going to make sure nothing happens to you,” Reese told him, voice soothing. They were all back in Fusco’s car now, Reese riding in the back with Johnson and Root sitting up front while Fusco drove.

“But why would anything happen to me? I’m nobody important. Just what did you have me pull off that computer, lady?”

“Good question,” Fusco chimed in.

“I’m looking into that right now,” Root said. She’d acquired a laptop from the offices when they’d gone in to escort Johnson to safety and had plugged in the little usb drive that Johnson had already loaded the files on. She could have looked through the files herself, but it was faster to use her phone as a wifi hotspot, connect to it from the laptop, and let the Machine sift through the files Herself.

“Well, that’s not right.” She frowned at the file the Machine had opened.

“Root?” Reese asked from the back.

She slammed the laptop lid shut, mind racing and the Machine buzzing in her ear.

“Let’s get to the safe-house and then I’ll fill you boys in.”

Mercifully Reese and Fusco agreed with only minimal complaining and she spent the rest of the ride listening to Her and trying to put the pieces together.

“Okay, Root, what's going on?” Reese asked once they were all in the safe-house.

Root opened the laptop up and handed it over to Reese. He sat down on the couch with it, glancing through the open file, and then looked up at her with a frown.

“This file says….”

“That Decima just hired me as their latest employee to head up a new surveillance division for them.” Root flopped down in a chair across from him. It had been a long week and this new development was setting off every alarm bell in her head. “And, no, She's not sure why Decima would make up that sort of information.”

“You sure it’s made up?” Fusco asked from where he was leaning against the wall.

Reese immediately shook his head. “She’s not working with Decima.” He turned to look at Johnson. “But why would Decima lie about this?”

Johnson shook his head, clearly as lost as they were.

“It’s not why,” Root explained patiently. “It’s who. Who did they want to see this information?”

“Vigilance,” Reese was catching up. “They just sicced Vigilance on you.”

“But if we’ve got Johnson doesn’t that mean Vigilance has no way of knowing that cuckoo clock is their target?”

“For the moment.” Root stood up and started pacing. “Clearly I’ve upset them.”

Normally she’d feel proud of that, amused at their tiny tantrum, but time was more important than anything else right now and this was going to waste it.

“Must be your winning personality,” Fusco said. She gave him a small, patronizing smile for the look of things, but she was distracted.

“Shaw’s already on her plane.” Reese was frowning. “I guess we’re on our own until she lands.”

“My phone…” Roger Johnson had pulled his phone out of his pocket and was staring at it. “Work’s calling.”

“I thought you left your phone at the office like we told you to,” Reese said, snatching the offending electronic from Johnson’s hands.

“That was my work phone. This is my personal phone.”

Some days Root wondered why the Machine was so sure the human race was worth saving.

“We need to leave,” she said. “Vigilance is tracking his phone and they’re probably already on their way.” She pulled her gun out.

“Where are we gonna go?” Fusco asked. “Why not wait here, take them down? I could call in backup, make up some story.”

“Vigilance doesn’t like being cornered,” Reese explained. He’d gotten up as well.

“They’d probably blow themselves, and us, up,” Root agreed. “As to where we’re going, She has somewhere for us but she needs you--” She snatched Johnson’s phone from Reese and handed it to Fusco. “--to throw them off our trail.”

Reese looked back and forth between Johnson and Fusco. “We can’t send Fusco out as bait with all of Vigilance breathing down his neck.”

“I can handle myself,” Fusco said indignantly. “Not that I’d turn down some backup with these lunatics after me, but what about this guy?” He gestured at Johnson who was sitting on the couch looking terrified and confused.

Root paused, listening to statistics being rattled off by the Machine in her ear.

“Fine. Reese go with Fusco. I’ll take Johnson somewhere safe.”

Reese shifted uncomfortably. “You sure about this, Root? Maybe you should go with Fusco and I’ll protect the number.”

Root sighed in exasperation. “I have a better chance of seeing something coming than you do. We’re wasting time--Vigilance is already on their way here.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw made a mental note to tell Root to thank the Machine for getting her a first class ticket on the way back from Oregon. She hadn’t been looking forward to the over five hour long flight, but the comfortable seat and pampering were definitely a plus.

She was, however, slightly annoyed that no one had been answering their comlink calls. Technically she shouldn’t have been able to get through while on the plane, but then again she did have the world’s most obnoxious supercomputer on her side. Sort of on her side anyway.

“Reese?” She kept her voice pitched very low to avoid being overheard by anyone else on the flight.

“Not the best time, Shaw.” There was the sound of gunfire in the background and she thought she heard Fusco’s voice.

“What’s going on? Can I help?”

“Not unless you’re back in the city and have a massive amount of firepower.”

“I’m stuck on a goddamn plane for another--” She checked the time. “--three hours.”

“We’re under fire at the moment, but otherwise okay. Can’t really talk. Gotta go.”

Shaw let out a frustrated sigh. Even an all-powerful AI couldn’t speed up her flight enough for it to matter. She tried a different approach.

“Root, you there?”

The line remained silent for a long second and then: “Shaw. Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

“I _am_ on a plane. Can still get a call through, though. Figured it was the Machine.”

“Well, She does know how cranky you get when you’re bored.” She could hear the smile in Root’s voice.

“What’s going on over there? Fusco and Reese are in some sort of fire fight?”

“They’re playing bait at the moment. They’ll be fine. She says they’ve got the situation under control.”

Shaw shifted in her seat, swirling the ice around in the glass of water she’d gotten. She’d wanted to get a real drink but even with the long flight she’d decided not to drink anything intoxicating after the beer she'd had in the airport bar in case she was flying back into a mess.

“So why were you involved with this number anyway?”

Root didn’t answer right away and Shaw wondered if she’d lost the connection.

“Root? You there?”

“I’m here, Sameen. The number was...a bit complicated. But like I said, we’ve got things under control for now.”

Shaw groaned. “I am on an excruciatingly boring flight after the dullest relevant number ever. Tell me about this complication before I die of brain inactivity.”

“Vigilance is after our number. Reese and Fusco are leading them across the city while I keep him safe. Hopefully.” There was the sound of a door slamming from over the line.

“Vigilance. What’d they want with that guy? He was a nobody.”

“He had access to some files on a client of his that they were interested in.”

It all sounded very logical when Root explained it but there was something about her tone of voice that was nagging at Shaw.

“Okay, so what aren’t you telling me then? Because there’s something else going on here.”

“A girl’s got to have _some_ secrets, don’t you think?”

“ _Root_.” She had an uneasy feeling in her stomach now.

“Gotta run, Shaw, think we’re about to have company.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me,” Shaw hissed as loudly as she could without upsetting the other passengers.

“Sorry, sweetie.” And then Root was gone.

“Dammit!”

She slammed her water glass down onto the little tray table next to the seat. Several other passengers looked up, startled, and a flight attendant started over until she waved them off.

“You’d better keep them all safe,” she muttered under her breath. She knew it could hear her. And it’d better listen.

 

* * *

 

“She says you’re clear, John.” Root was sitting on a stack of boxes in a mostly empty room of an abandoned warehouse. Roger Johnson, their irrelevant number, was sitting up against the opposite wall rocking back and forth. She was sure Reese would have said something comforting to him, but she couldn’t be bothered. It was his stupidity that had put Vigilance back on their trail.

Probably on her trail now actually. She'd gotten out of Johnson that he'd copied the files in question to his desktop at the office meaning they were no longer protected by a secure server but only by his lousy password. The chances were very high that Vigilance had them now. How the hell did this guy work as a security consultant?

“Yeah, they backed off for now. How’re you doing over there?” Reese asked.

Root kicked one heel against the boxes. “Well, we’re at our second location now after they stormed the last one.”

“You secure there?”

“For now. She thinks we may have been followed but She’s not sure. If we were then they’re waiting to make a move. Running out in the open now might be a mistake.” She glanced down at the mess on her left arm.

It hadn’t been nearly as bad as it could have been. The bullet had taken a chunk out of her, but there was no bullet lodged in her arm and she’d more or less stopped the bleeding. She’d get an interesting new scar out of it but that was about it.

“Give us your location and we’ll be there as soon as we can.” Reese actually sounded worried and it almost made her smile. She’d never thought having people worry would be anything other than annoying, but somehow it was gratifying. Especially because it was John Reese of all people, someone who had every reason to distrust her.

“She’s programming it in Lionel’s GPS.”

“We’re on our way.” He disconnected the line.

Root got up off her boxes and went to poke around the room again. She’d already cut a strip off her shirt to fashion a makeshift bandage for the bullet wound, but it had ended up soaked with blood and she could use something fresh without further destroying her clothes. Shaw would approve of that.

“Is Shaw very angry?” she asked Her quietly.

The Machine’s description of Shaw’s current mood drew a chuckle from her.

“Well, I look forward to her telling me how displeased she is in person.” There was nothing in this room that was remotely useful.

She looked over at where Johnson was huddled against the wall, wide eyes locked on the floor in terror. He was muttering to himself.

“Is he really worth all this?” she asked, quietly.

The Machine was silent and somehow that was more unsatisfying than Her normal assurances that every number mattered. Root hadn’t even realized she’d been asking for that affirmation until she hadn’t gotten it.

When the Machine finally did respond it was with a warning buzz that there were incoming hostiles approaching the building. So they _had_ been followed after all.

“Really not our day is it?” she murmured. “Well, he’s in shock or something so I don’t think he’s going to be much use. Not sure if he could run even if there was somewhere to run to.”

She sighed and walked over to Johnson. “Get up.”

He stared up at her, eyes unfocused. “What?”

“Get up. There’s people coming here to kill you. I’m going to go head them off, but I need to hide you somewhere first.”

She ended up having to half-drag him over behind a huge stack of tarp-covered benches and tables.

“Hide under there.” She gestured at the tarp but Johnson only stared at her.

“Listen, Roger, there are five heavily-armed terrorists with guns currently breaking into the ground floor of this building. Three of them are convicted felons, and one of them murdered his own mother--” Root leaned in, dropping her voice dramatically. “--on her birthday.” Okay, so she’d made that one up.

Johnson’s eyes bulged out of his head and he scurried under the tarp.

“Don’t make a noise and don’t come out until Reese or I come for you or you’ll die horribly,” she said brightly, dropping the tarp into place and ignoring his terrified whimper.

Well, that was one headache out of the way. She called John back.

“I’ve got company incoming. I’ve hidden Johnson under some tables on the second floor in the room in the back. Get him out first when you get here.”

“What about you?”

Root pulled her guns out.

“I’ll think of something.”

 

* * *

 

When Reese arrived at the warehouse there was no sign of Vigilance. Fusco found Johnson under the tables on the second floor where Root had said he would be.

“Root?” he tried to open a channel to her.

Nothing but silence.

“Damn.” He put his gun away and looked helplessly around the parking lot. At least there wasn’t a body here. That meant they’d taken her alive. Probably.

“Shaw is going to kill me,” he muttered.

 

* * *

 

Shaw basically bolted off the plane when the cabin door opened, ignoring the outraged squawks of some of the other passengers.

“Root?” Still nothing. She tried a different channel. “Reese?”

“Shaw, you land yet?”

She hurried down the airport hallway. She only had the small carry-on bag she’d brought with her, nothing checked, so she was ready to get out of there immediately. Of course she was still all the way out at JFK airport so she was either going to have to rent a car, steal one, suffer the taxi ride, or take the goddamn Long Island Railroad back into the city.

“I’m here. I don’t suppose you got a way for me to get back into the city?”

“The Machine texted me the confirmation number for a rental car earlier. Said I might need it.”

Shaw frowned. Since when did the Machine communicate with Reese that directly?

“Why didn’t Root send it?”

“Yeah, about that….”

Shaw stopped walking. “Reese. What’s going on? Cut the bullshit and talk to me.”

Reese let out a sigh over the line. “To the best of our knowledge Vigilance has Root.”

Shaw started walking again, much faster now.

“To the best of your knowledge? Do you know where? Give me an address, I’m on my way.”

“We don’t know that yet and…”

Shaw killed the line.

“I know you can hear me, and if you’re texting Reese you must be pretty damn desperate,” she said. “So, talk.”

She blew past the security guards and out into the dingy baggage claim area. The recorded voice over the airport speakers reminded her to not accept a ride from an unauthorized vehicle.

The Machine didn’t answer her until after she had her rental car and was pulling out of the airport rental car parking lot.

“Can You Hear Me?”

Shaw had always wondered what it was like to talk directly to it, she guessed that she got to find out now.

“Yeah, I can hear you, you useless hunk of junk. Where the hell is Root?”

“Address Incoming.”

The GPS in her car suddenly displayed a destination and started bleating out directions. It was about a thirty minute drive to the Queensboro bridge back into Manhattan. She could do it in a lot less than that though.

“What’s her situation like?”

“Unknown.” It...she was using multiple voice files strung together the way she did over the payphones.

“How the hell is it unknown? You know everything.”

“Copper Mesh Conductive Shell.”

She was out on I-678 now, pushing as fast as she could without risking a ticket.

“You mean a Faraday cage. But you know where she is, right? What building?”

“Address In GPS.”

“Okay, good. And she was okay when she went in?”

“Minor Injury But Otherwise Unharmed.”

“Fucking idiot.” Shaw moved over into the fast lane.

“Sorry.”

“Not you. Well, you, too, actually.”

“Sorry.”

An idea occurred to her. “If I were to drive a little faster….”

“Will Inform Of Patrol Cars And Speed Traps.”

Shaw smiled, grimly. “That’s more like it.”

She floored it.

 

* * *

 

Shaw was somewhere on I-495 when she realized the GPS had her heading to Brooklyn. She hadn’t been paying much attention to her final location, assuming it was in Manhattan. Well, this made it easier; where she was headed would be a bit less crowded.

“You tell Reese and Fusco where she is?” she asked her new companion.

“No.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

“Waiting Until Primary Asset Shaw Was Closer.”

Shaw frowned. “But if Root is in danger why not send them in? They’re closer.”

“Odds Increase Greatly With Primary Asset Shaw.”

It made sense in a very cold, logical way, and Shaw could appreciate cold logic. It’s what kept her from getting killed.

“Okay, well get them moving. And get them a car. I don’t want to risk the damn L train getting stuck.”

“Contacting Agents Now.”

She lapsed into silence until it occurred to her that the Machine could probably keep talking to her and still send Reese an update at the same time.

“Why is Vigilance after her anyway? They know about you?

“No. They Believe She Works For Decima.”

She took her exit, leaving the highway behind her.

“Why the hell would they think that?”

“Decima.”

“You’re telling me Decima told Vigilance that Root worked for them so they’d go after her?”

“Correct.”

Well, that made sense though it was hardly encouraging. Vigilance had a nasty habit of killing people and if they really thought Root worked for Decima they probably planned to get rid of her as soon as they got as much information as possible out of her. At least she didn’t know of any instances of them using torture to question people.

“Think they’d torture her?” she asked anyway.

“Unknown.”

“She doesn’t need more of that shit.”

“Agreed.”

She was a little surprised it had even commented on her last statement. She wondered if the Machine felt guilt.

“What are my chances of getting her back?” She’d been putting off asking, but not knowing wouldn’t change anything.

“Cannot Calculate. Need More Information. Estimating Seventy-Three Percent Chance Of Three Assets Successfully Neutralizing Vigilance Agents.”

“That could be a lot worse.”

The GPS showed she was coming up on the building now.

“Reese, you there?”

“We’re about three blocks out from some building the Machine texted us the address for. Where are you?”

So she’d texted Reese but hadn’t spoken to him. Interesting. Shaw stored that away for later.

“I’m almost there. Five minutes.”

“Should we wait on you?”

Shaw thought about the Machine’s warning.

“Yeah. Our chances go way up with all of us there.”

“It talking to you?”

“Yeah.” She thought back about that conversation she and Root had in central park what must have been months ago now. Was she Root’s contingency plan? Had Root told her to contact Shaw now?

She didn’t like that. It sounded too much like Root didn’t expect to get out of there. And that was unacceptable.

“I’m going to kick her ass,” she muttered.

“Unlikely,” the Machine said.

Shaw almost drove off the road.

“You shut up.” Had Root’s bad sense of humor been rubbing off on the Machine? That was the last thing that the world needed.

She parked the car in a fire zone and got out. She hadn’t been able to bring much in the way of weapons in her carry-on despite some forged documents the Machine had made for her. She hoped Reese had brought extras otherwise she was taking Fusco’s.

She wasn’t going to leave anything to chance here.

Reese and Fusco came around the corner towards her park.

“You two ready for this?”

Reese held out a spare gun as an answer and then handed over some extra ammo she tucked into a pocket.

“You good, Shaw?” he asked.

“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Reese grimaced but didn’t press further.

“You gonna give me a hand, too?”

Reese looked puzzled by the question for a second but then understanding spread over his face.

“Yes.” the Machine said in her ear.

Shaw nodded. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really dislike writing actual dialogue for the Machine. I never feel like I get it right. But I figured Shaw would want a much more straight-forward communication method that Root.
> 
> Sorry for the mini-cliffhanger. I'll probably post the next bit on Sunday night. Trying very hard to get back on track with my writing progress this week.


	9. Rescue Mission - Part 2

 

Root wasn’t sure if her headache was from the drive over or from the inane drivel her captor kept spewing at her.

The ride to wherever it was they were now in the back of a van with no seats or cushions had been very uncomfortable, and now on top of being chased all over the city, getting a tiny bit shot, and the whole van thing she had to listen to this crap.

“We fight not to enslave, but to set a country free, and to make room upon the earth for honest men to live in!” the leader (Collier the others called him, which made him the head of Vigilance) proclaimed loudly. His eyes gleamed with the light of a true believer.

“Well, if I ever meet an honest man I’ll be sure to tell him you care.” Root smiled and tipped her head back, scanning the room again.

She was sitting on a chair near the back of the small room. Collier was the only other one in here and he hadn’t bothered to tie her hands. His mistake, really, though he did have a shotgun. In this small a space he wouldn’t even need to be a good shot.

“Those were the words of Thomas Paine. Do you even know who he was?”

“Don’t really care.” She did know, but he was so easy to wind up that she couldn’t help herself. Also not being able to hear the Machine had put her on edge.

The small room she was in was almost completely filled by a copper mesh cage, a Faraday cage, that had cut off her connection to the Machine. She was not pleased at all and she suspected the Machine was even less happy with the situation. At least She’d tracked Root to the building. She didn’t want to rely on the team to get her out of here, but if no other options presented themselves it was nice to know they knew where she was.

“Now you seem like a smart lady,” Collier continued. “So tell me why you think it’s okay for the government to systematically spy on its own people? Our government is supposed to be by the people and for the people and yet they treat us like criminals.”

“Well, speaking for everyone in this room, we _are_ criminals.” If she hadn’t been in pain this would almost have been fun.

They couldn’t have known about the cochlear implant, so she assumed the Faraday cage was a paranoid security measure. Made sense for a privacy terrorist group.

The whole cage thing had made her uneasy at first, it was a little too much of a flashback to her time with Control, but it had quickly become clear that while preaching and threatening were definitely going to keep happening, torture was not on the table. And once she’d known that she’d been okay again.

“We are only criminals because our government has turned innocent men into outlaws by denying us our basic rights as citizens.”

Root rolled her eyes. “Listen, Collier, was it? Let me tell you something about humans. The thing about your average ordinary person is that they like convenience. They don’t want to have to think about boring things because, well, they’re boring. So if you tell someone they can have their phone remember their most frequently traveled to places to make it super easy to pull up on GPS and get directions home, they’re gonna want that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that in principle,” Collier agreed. “What’s wrong is when the government uses that information against…”

“What if someone kidnapped a child? You have a kid? Niece? Nephew? What if someone kidnapped them and their phone could be used to track them down but their privacy was being respected?” As far as she was concerned information belonged to whomever was smart enough to get their hands on it, but baiting him was too much fun.

Collier shook his head. “You’re twisting my words against me.”

“No. I’m pointing out that it’s not as simple as you’d like to think it is.” She watched him closely, waiting for an opening.

“Now I don’t like the idea of anyone being able to find me or get at my private information,” Root continued. Not that she _had_ any private information to get at. “And neither do the majority of Americans who have even the slightest understanding of what that means. But those same people would probably also step on other people’s rights the second it was personally convenient for them. I mean, you tracked Roger Johnson’s phone, didn’t you? What about his rights?” She couldn’t give a shit about Johnson’s rights, but poking holes in Collier’s dogma was currently her only source of entertainment.

“We’re fighting for the greater good of all people…”

“No, you’re fighting for yourselves and making up a pretty story about it to justify it.”

Collier smiled at her like he knew something she didn’t, which, she suspected, was pretty unlikely considering who her best friend was these days.

“No, see, I think you’re the one making up a story to justify doing the bidding of an evil corporation like Decima.”

Root couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. Of course the Machine violated basically everyone’s privacy by merit of existing, but still.

“You think it’s funny? I could tell you stories about the lives that have been ruined due to companies like Decima. And maybe you get to go home at night to your nice apartment and live in your safe world where you don’t have to worry about these things, but not all of us are so fortunate.”

Had Decima given her a nice apartment in the made up file they’d baited Vigilance with? How thoughtful of them. Root couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a home to go to. The library kind of felt like home recently, but it wasn’t the same thing.

“I know more about Decima then you could imagine in your wildest dreams,” she said. She wasn’t only baiting him now, she was trying to find a reason for him to keep her alive, keep her talking. Whatever else Collier was he wasn’t stupid. She might need to change tactics here.

“That’s the only reason you’re still alive,” Collier said, confirming her suspicions. “For some reason Decima thinks you’re important. Why would that be?”

“My winning personality?” she echoed Fusco’s words.

“No, you’re valuable for a reason and you _will_ tell us why.” Collier sounded very sure.

“Oh, I will?” She smiled at him, teeth bared.

“We don’t condone torture,” Collier said, “but we will do anything, _anything_ , to protect the rights of the people of this country.”

Root felt a shudder go through her. It wasn’t him she was scared of; she knew he was bluffing. It was a subconscious response to the memories of what Control had done to her. It had been weeks before she’d been able to sleep soundly after that, and every time she thought she could forget it she was reminded by the silence in her ear.

“Sounds to me like you _do_ condone torture then. You’re lying to yourselves about it, just like everything else.”

“There are other ways of making you talk. We can show you, in excruciating detail, what Decima has done.”

He was going to show _her_ what Decima had done? That was priceless. She put a mildly interested look on her face, though.

“Do the rights of Americans really matter so little to you?” Collier pressed, apparently buying that she was listening to him now.

“What about my rights?”

“They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety. Benjamin Franklin.”

“Some animals are more equal than others. George Orwell.” She probably shouldn’t have said that, but it had been too good to resist. The fact it was an Orwell quote probably stung.

“We’re fighting for the greater good here,” Collier said again, completely ignoring her jab. “What if I were to tell you that the government takes private information from its citizens and twists the meaning of it to allow them to take actions against innocent men?”

This was hardly surprising news to her but she let her eyes widen fractionally. “I guess I’d ask if you had proof.”

“I do, in fact. Plenty of it. If I can convince you of what I know perhaps you’d be willing to tell me what you know?” Collier was watching her closely now. “There must be some reason Decima hired you specifically.”

She had his attention now, for sure. It was almost nice getting to do this on her own again. She might have learned how to hack computer systems first, but hacking people had followed shortly after. They went hand in hand: the weakest point of security in a computer system was often a human. Someone leaving their password on a post-it, using their dog’s name or their birthday, answering questions about personal details over the phone.

“You keep running into Decima’s projects,” Root said. She’d let a little information out and let him build on it himself. “You went after some things they were interested in. A man named Arthur Claypool, a janitor with security clearance named Cyrus Wells. A couple of others.”

Collier looked pleased with himself. “They don’t like it when the people fight back against them. Ruins their plans, doesn’t it?”

“You’ve got them very worried,” Root agreed.

“And that’s why they hired you. To look into us.”

Root nodded. “They know you’re planning something big.” It was a shot in the dark, but hey, most terrorist groups were planning something big at some point.

Collier tapped the barrel of his shotgun in the palm of the hand that wasn’t holding it.

“You know, you’re not wrong about that.”

Root held back her smile. He’d basically just told her that he planned on killing her no matter what, because that wasn’t the sort of information he’d let slip to someone he thought worked for Decima unless he was very sure they’d be dead soon. Well, she hadn’t been counting on his good will anyway.

“Soon enough the entire city will come to a halt and the whole country will watch as we unmask the corruption at the heart of our government.”

“The president?” She gasped softly and did a slightly larger eye-widen this time. Her little act seemed to be working, which was a bit surprising considering how belligerent she'd been to start with. But then Collier only seemed to see what he wanted to see.

Collier waved her assumption aside. “Those responsible, no matter who they are and however highly placed.”

“Why worry about Decima then?”

“They must stand on trial for their crimes as well. And we’d be remiss in not looking into something aimed directly at us.” Collier nodded almost to himself. “They’re worried enough about us that they had to hire an expert.”

He was talking in circles now. She decided he’d probably spilled all she was going to get. Time for the next part of the plan. She turned a little in her seat, just enough to rub the edge of the bullet wound on her arm against the chair so that the little yelp of pain she let out was authentic.

Collier moved forward a little, frowning.

“My arm,” she gasped, doubling over and clutching at it. “It was okay before, but...it’s burning.”

Collier thought of himself as a good man, and a good man would help someone in pain, she was counting on it. He came forward another step, hesitant, but it was enough. He was close enough now that he couldn’t get the long shotgun barrel all the way around and pointed at her in the confined space. She was up on her feet and had both hands on the gun before he could react.

He struggled, focused on the gun now, trying to pull it away from her with sheer force. She’d been counting on that, too. She smashed the heel of her foot onto his toes and the followed it up with a knee to the crotch. When his hands loosened around the gun she pulled it away and slammed the butt of the gun into his head.

He folded to the floor.

“People are too easy,” she murmured, nudging him with her foot to make sure he was out.

The door to the room was locked and Collier didn’t have a key on him. There was probably some sort of secret knock or something dumb to get them to let him out. Too risky to try yet. She looked around the room again. Time to find a plan B.

 

* * *

 

“You two take that hall, I’ll go left,” Shaw whispered to Reese and Fusco.

They’d been using silencers since they’d gotten inside the building to avoid getting rushed. There were no cameras in here for the Machine to track them with, but she’d had an idea of where Root was from tracing the signals being picked up by her cochlear implant. They were close now, but the area they were headed towards could have been down either of these halls. Or both if it was a big enough room.

Reese nodded in confirmation and motioned Fusco to follow him. Shaw watched them for a second and then headed down her own hall.

The first hall was empty, but when she used a little mirror she'd had in her luggage to look around the corner to the next hallway there were two men with guns stationed along the wall. She took a deep breath and spun around the corner firing off two shots as she went that took both men in the knee. She walked over to them and kicked their weapons away.

“You move or make any noise, I put the next one in your heads. Got it?”

Both of them were in too much pain to really answer, but she decided she’d gotten her point across. More important was the fact they’d been guarding a door. That was a good sign.

“Can’t see inside by any chance?” she asked quietly.

“No Signals Detected.”

Most likely they were locked down on phone usage since they were all paranoid about stuff like that. Plus this Faraday cage business.

The door was solid metal with no way to look through and fit into its frame well enough she couldn’t even peer through a crack.

“Guess I’m going in blind.”

She decided to err on the side of caution and knocked both guards out to make sure there was no way in hell they'd cause trouble. She found a key on one of the fallen guards and unlocked the door as quietly as she could manage. The door slammed open almost immediately, hitting her in the head and making her stagger back.

“Shaw?”

Root was standing in the doorway pointing a shotgun at her and looking not at all like a captive in need of rescue.

“Ow! Root, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sweetie. Thought you were the bad guys.” Root lowered her shotgun looked at the men on the floor. “Looks like you took care of them, though.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” Shaw grumbled. She activated her comlink. “Reese, I got her. Come meet up with me and let’s get out of here.”

“She okay?” Reese asked.

“Apparently.” Shaw fixed Root with a glare. “You had to run off and get captured, huh? Make the whole team run across town to save your ass.”

“Well, I do appreciate the backup,” Root said. “Still wasn’t sure how to get through the door, though I figured someone would open it sooner or later. And now I don’t have to shoot my way out of a Vigilance stronghold solo.” She made a face and motioned at her shotgun. “Might have been messy.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Good to know I have some use.”

“Is Fusco with you by any chance?” Root asked. She stepped forward to poke softly at Shaw’s bruised forehead. Shaw batted her away. It fucking hurt enough already.

“Yeah, him and Reese.”

“I have Peter Collier unconscious in there,” Root said, gesturing back at the room she’d come out of. “He might be interested in making an arrest.”

“That’ll make him happy.” Shaw looked her over more carefully. “You okay?”

Root nodded at the bloody bandage tied around her left arm. “Nothing too bad. Might need some stitches if you’re up to playing doctor later.” She smiled a little, letting Shaw know she didn’t only mean getting stitches.

“You got held captive by a terrorist organization and the first thing you do is hit on me?” Shaw shook her head. “Actually never mind. Of course it is.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?” Root was up in her personal space again, close enough that Shaw could feel her breath on her face. Root's dumb shotgun was pressed between them.

Which of course was exactly when the boys showed up. Reese didn’t even bat an eye though Fusco scrunched up his face a bit at them. Root only smiled and stepped back a little.

“Fusco, I have a surprise for you,” Root said merrily, waving Fusco over to follow her into the room she’d been in. Reese stayed where he was, keeping an eye out for threats.

With all the attention not on her, Shaw finally had a chance to do what she’d wanted to since she’d been sure Root was okay.

“Thanks,” she said as softly as she could.

“Thank You.” The Machine’s voice clips didn’t convey any real emotion, but that was fine with Shaw.

She nodded though she didn’t know if the Machine could see her here. Somehow she knew that they probably wouldn’t keep talking like this, and that was okay by her. If nothing else this whole day had proved to her that she could count on the Machine for some things. The things important to them both.

 

* * *

 

“So Vigilance is planning something big?” Shaw asked as she bandaged Root’s arm. It felt like she spent a lot of time bandaging her up lately.

“Sounds like it. Probably something overly melodramatic,” Root said scornfully.

“You of all people are not allowed to accuse others of melodrama,” Shaw said, dropping the medical tape roll onto the library desk. She saw Reese give a ghost of a smile from where he was leaning against the wall.

Shaw took a moment to appreciate the situation. It was weird how only a few months ago all three of them had been in this room the day Finch had disappeared and those two had been ready to tear each other apart. And now look at them.

“He said the whole country would see the rotten heart of the government, etcetera, etcetera.” Root waved a hand around. “Oh, and something about putting the guilty on trial. Not sure if he meant that literally. He did like his cliche phrases.”

“Well, with Collier in jail we might have slowed that plan down if we didn’t outright kill it,” Reese pointed out.

Root shook her head. “I doubt it. Vigilance is smart and careful. Collier would have had a contingency plan for if he vanished. Might take them a few days to get realigned though. They probably work in cells so whoever takes over will have to get any new orders passed down the ranks.”

“Shame, they were after Decima, too. Enemy of our enemy and all.” Reese stooped to pet Bear when the big dog trotted over to him.

“Maybe there’s a way to use that,” Shaw said. “I mean Decima sent Vigilance after us. Maybe we can return the favor somehow. Give them a target.”

“I actually have a slightly different idea,” Root said with a smile that made Shaw uneasy. She could tell when Root was up to something.

“You gonna share with the rest of the class?” Reese asked when Root failed to continue.

“Glad you asked, John.” Root smiled at him, that unnervingly smile she sometimes had that made her look like a wild animal baring its teeth. “I need a favor.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” he asked sadly.

 

* * *

 

“I am _so_ pleased to finally meet you.”

Reese couldn’t fully contain his grimace as Root held out her hand to Zoe Morgan.

“You look familiar…” Zoe was examining Root closely.

“My reputation must precede me.” Root sounded very pleased with herself.

“You’re that psychologist that John had me look into. The one who wasn’t a psychologist at all.” Zoe turned to Reese for an explanation.

“It’s complicated,” he managed. Why had he agreed to this?

“She’s on our team now,” Shaw cut in. “Well, mostly.”

“Don’t be like that, Sameen.” Root strolled across the safe-house floor and attempted to loop her arm through one of Shaw’s. Shaw immediately brushed her off and stepped away with a glare. Zoe was watching them like a hawk, Reese observed.

“Root’s our computer security specialist,” he supplied.

Root outright laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“She’s a hacker,” Zoe filled in. She didn’t look even slightly put off.

“I like her, John. We can keep her.” Root had moved behind Shaw and was basically leaning forward on her, resting her chin on one of her shoulders. Shaw gritted her teeth but she didn't move this time.

“Glad I passed inspection,” Zoe said. She moved further into the room and sat down on the couch. “Now can I ask what you needed me for on such short notice? I had a very nice party to attend tonight.”

“The art auction wine and cheese thing, right?” Root asked, still draped over Shaw like a ridiculous human cape.

“How do you know that?” Shaw asked.

“I’d suspect she looked into me on her own,” Zoe said. “It’s the biggest event in town tonight and I’m on good terms with several attendees.”

“You mean they owe you favors,” Root clarified.

Reese held in a sigh and exchanged an exasperated look with Shaw. Root was clearly trying to show off for Zoe and for her part, Zoe was eyeing Root like she was some sort of exotic but deadly animal that had wandered into the room.

“So. Is someone going to tell me why I’m here or am I leaving now?” Zoe asked, not taking her eyes off Root.

“Root wanted to meet you,” Reese said, coming over to sit in a chair nearby. Root followed suit by dropping onto the other couch and trying to tug Shaw down after her. Shaw pulled away and moved out of reach to stand stiffly near the couch arm. Clearly she’d had her fill of being petted by Root for now.

Zoe turned to look at Root, raising an eyebrow in question. Root smiled and cleared her throat, all business now.

“You have connections all over the city to everyone even slightly important. And more than connections. You have leverage.”

“You flatter me,” Zoe said cooly. “I’m a business woman. And I’m very good at what I do.”

Apparently she flattered herself as well, Reese thought, amused. He’d missed Zoe.

“I wouldn’t be asking for your help if you weren’t,” Root agreed. “What do you know about a company called Decima Technologies?”

Zoe was silent for a few seconds, face carefully expressionless.

“They’re an international technology firm,” she said at last. “Privately owned, of course. They’re very rich. Carefully rich, I’d say.”

Root’s smile widened. “Yes, careful is a good word for them.”

“What the hell does carefully rich mean?” Shaw asked.

Zoe turned to her. “They’re rich enough to be a real player, to afford whatever they want, buy off whomever they want. But not rich enough to draw too much attention. It’s a fine line that they maintain carefully. Of course at the levels of money we're talking about it's largely semantics.”

“You had dealings with them before?” Reese asked. He’d agreed to invite Zoe over to talk about this but he didn’t want her ending up in Decima’s crosshairs.

“Not directly. Why?”

Root cut back in. “We think they’re buying people in congress and possibly the local government here as well. We’d be interested in finding out some names, information, dates. Anything like that.”

Zoe pursed her lips. “I could ask around, I suppose. I'd need a little more information, though. And what would be in it for me?”

“We can pay…” Reese started but Zoe cut him off.

“Not interested in money. I want information.”

“What sort of information?” he asked warily.

Zoe smiled in a way that sent a chill down Reese’s spine. What had he ever done to deserve ending up in a room with the three most terrifying women he’d ever met? At least they were all on the same side. Sort of.

“I’ve got a...friend who had a small indiscretion recently. There are some documents and pictures that he’d rather not have get out. I need to know who has them and to make them go away.”

Root’s face lit up. “Sounds fun.”

Zoe returned her smile. “Now how did I know you were going to say that?”

When Zoe and Root moved to the table in the back of the room where Root had her laptop set up, Shaw came over to sit next to Reese.

“Still think this is a good idea?” he asked her.

Shaw shrugged. “They’re both good at what they do. I don’t think Zoe would screw us over and so far Root’s playing nice.”

“Can you imagine if the two of them ever teamed up for real?” Reese asked. “No one in this city would be safe. Root can get access to anyone and Zoe has the clout to use personal information to the best advantage.”

Shaw grinned. “Sounds like a good time.”

Reese gave up. Despite the little sliver of uneasiness in him he couldn’t have asked for a better teammates. If only they had Finch here to witness it. What would he have thought of all this?

 

* * *

 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Reese asked Shaw quietly enough that the two women at the other end of the room couldn’t hear. It has been nearly an hour and he was starting to get fidgety.

“Dunno.” Shaw didn’t seem particularly concerned. She was leaning back on the couch next to him, eyes half shut and focused on Root and Zoe.

“You okay with Zoe looking into Decima for us?”

Shaw side-eyed him. “Are you?”

Reese chuckled. “Fair enough.”

They both lapsed back into silence. Over at the table Zoe was pointing at something on the screen of the laptop and Root’s face lit up in an evil smile. She said something to Zoe that Reese couldn’t quite hear and Zoe smiled smugly.

“I think Zoe can take care of herself,” Reese said finally. “But I’d like to keep Decima from finding out she’s working for us. No need to endanger anyone else.”

“Plus she’d be less useful if they knew she was helping us.”

Shaw had always been coldly practical, Reese mused. Not that he wasn’t as well. He wasn’t worried about Zoe getting into trouble with politicians or rich corporations; he was worried about her getting shot. Root and Shaw both lived in the same world he did. Zoe couldn’t operate in their world any more than they could operate in hers. But then Finch had never picked up a gun either.

Of course look how that had turned out. Maybe that accounted for the slight unease he felt now. He pushed it aside.

Zoe got up from next to Root and crossed the floor to the couch. Shaw immediately stood and walked over to Root, giving them room.

“She said she needed to focus,” Zoe said, taking Shaw’s abandoned seat. “Though I’m not sure having her hovering over her shoulder is going to help.” She motioned at Shaw with a slight chin nod.

Reese looked at where Shaw was leaning on the table next to Root’s laptop. Root smiled and pointed at her screen, explaining something. Shaw nodded and responded which led Root into another explanation that involved arm motions.

“I think it’s fine,” Reese said. Shaw looked completely at ease, like she was enjoying herself even if it was in a different way than when she was on a mission.

“Do you trust her?” Zoe sounded interested but not worried. There was no need for her to specify she was talking about Root.

Reese thought about it for a few moments. “I’d trust her to have my back in a firefight. I don’t always trust her motivation.”

Zoe nodded to herself. “And her and Shaw? That’s new unless I’m mistaken.”

Reese contained a smile. This was classic Zoe, always digging for all the small details and filing them away.

“I thought it was a little weird at first. I mean if I were going to pick a person to get on every last one of Shaw’s nerves it would definitely be Root. But maybe that’s why it works.”

Over at the table Shaw was watching Root work and occasionally making quiet comments that Root would absent-mindedly nod at as her fingers flew over the keys.

“It’s their business,” he added.

“And how are _you_ doing, John? I know a bit about Decima and they shouldn’t be taken lightly. They’ve got a lot of influence.”

“They’ve got Finch.”

He saw Zoe’s eyes widen slightly. “I was wondering where he was. Do you want me to see if I can find anything out about him?”

Reese took a deep breath. He wanted to say “yes” so badly, but he didn’t think she’d find out anything and it was a really sure way to draw suspicion.

“Don’t ask, but if you hear anything…”

“Of course.”

Root stood up from the table and came over to the couch.

“All taken care of,” she said cheerfully.

“She completely destroyed that guy,” Shaw added as she joined her. She looked properly impressed, a grin on her face.

“Excellent,” Zoe said, standing up. “You delivered on your side of the deal and I’ll deliver on mine. I’ll get in touch with John as soon as I have information.”

Reese noted that Zoe was implying that her getting information wasn’t even in question. Her confidence was absolute; he’d always admired that about her.

“I’m headed out,” Shaw said, grabbing her coat from a chair. “Between the flight and the whole thing earlier, I need some shut-eye.”

“See you later, Shaw,” Reese said with a nod goodbye.

Root stayed in front of the couch, looking uncertain. Reese wondered again where the heck she slept at night. He’d never been able to find her apartment (if she even had one), and every time he tried to trail her she mysteriously vanished. Of course she was also cheating by having the Machine watch her back so he didn’t feel too bad.

Shaw paused at the door. “You coming?” she asked Root impatiently.

Root’s entire face split into a brilliant smile which she quickly toned down several degrees.

“Of course.” She grabbed her own coat. “A pleasure doing business with you, Zoe.” She held out her hand and Zoe shook it briefly.

“I have a feeling we’ll be able to help each other out again in the future,” Zoe replied.

“Looking forward to it.” Root paused. “Actually…” She moved a little ways away indicating that Zoe should follow her. They spoke quietly for a few seconds while Shaw shifted restlessly by the door. Finally they broke off and came back towards Reese.

Root gave Reese a lazy little wave and headed over to where Shaw stood impatiently at the door.

“She’s totally smitten, isn’t she?” Zoe asked once the door shut behind them.

Reese just smiled. He wanted to ask what Root had wanted, but had a feeling Zoe wouldn’t tell him. Well, he’d probably find out soon enough one way or another.

“Harder to tell with the other one,” Zoe continued. “She’s always been tough to read.”

“The entire time I’ve known Shaw she’s never invited anyone over to her apartment.” He only knew what it looked like because he’d broken in once.

Zoe didn’t respond directly. “Well, I’ve missed my party now. So I think it’s your responsibility to buy me a consolation drink.”

Reese smiled. “I can do that.”

 

* * *

 

“What did you want with Zoe at the end there?” Shaw asked Root as she unlocked the door to her apartment.

“It’s a secret,” Root said, trying to look solemn and completely failing.

“I’ll lock you out.”

Root pushed past her into the apartment as the door unlocked. Shaw could have stopped her but really what was the point? They’d both known it was a bluff.

“You got a couch?” Root was examining the newest addition to Shaw’s apartment, a black leather couch shoved into one corner.

“Guess I did.” Shaw dropped her keys on the one table she owned and stripped out of her coat. “Now tell me about this secret you and Zoe have.”

The couch clearly met Root’s approval because she had kicked her shoes off and was already sprawled across it.

“I’m looking into some real estate and Zoe is giving me her expert opinion.”

Shaw frowned. “What does Zoe know about real estate?”

“She knows people who know a lot about it.”

Shaw came over to the couch and stood in front of it. Root was taking up the entire couch and she wasn’t going to sit on her, especially since that was probably exactly what she wanted.

“Okay, so why do _you_ care about real estate?”

“I don’t. The Machine does though. She hasn’t told me exactly why yet.” Root didn’t look bothered by this which bugged Shaw even more. She’d worked for years obeying orders without asking questions, but now it was different.

“Move.” She shoved Root’s legs off the couch to make room for herself. As soon as she was sitting Root just draped her legs over Shaw’s lap.

“I’m not a footrest.”

“I’ve had a long day, Sameen. I was kidnapped. It was _awful_.” Root stuck her lower lip out.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Root?” But she didn’t make her move her legs either. Root had been a little more handsy since they’d ‘rescued’ her and Shaw wondered if it wasn’t her way of getting her footing back.

It was odd, sitting here in her own apartment with Root like this. Sure they’d probably have sex later, that’s why she’d invited Root back in the first place, but right now they were both relaxing, recovering from the day together. It had happened a couple times before and the fact it was becoming a pattern was worrying. This wasn’t her sort of thing. Or it shouldn’t be. It never had been before.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a headache coming on.

“Hey, you alright?” Root’s voice was serious now, softer and yet more intense.

“Headache. Probably because some asshole slammed a door into my head earlier.”

She felt Root’s legs leave her lap and the couch shift. When she opened her eyes Root was sitting sideways next to her, almost touching and unleashing the full force of that intense gaze of hers.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

Shaw felt a smile tug at her mouth. How the hell had she ended up here with some nerd who used terrible one-liners?

“You can sleep on the couch tonight.”

Root froze.

“I mean, you know, after…” Shaw hastily amended.

“You asking me to stay over?”

She’d always kicked Root out after. Having her stay here in the same bed would have been too much of...something. But she’d bought a couch and now Root could stay here without sleeping on the floor like she had that time Shaw had been shot.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Thankfully she didn’t. Instead she leaned in and pulled Shaw forward by her shirt into a rough kiss. Shaw slid her legs up under her onto the couch so she wasn’t awkwardly sitting sideways anymore and buried her hands in Root’s hair, drawing her deeper into the kiss.

Root broke off in favor of pushing Shaw over backwards and climbing on top of her, settling down with a leg on either side of Shaw’s hips. It was a little tight of a fit on the couch, Root’s left leg sliding down to the floor, but Shaw was only barely paying attention to that what with Root staring at her like she was a five course meal.

“I missed this,” Root said, running her eyes over Shaw unabashedly.

“What’re you wasting time for then?” Shaw demanded. Her hands had landed on Root’s waist and she was toying with the edge of her shirt. It dawned on her that it was that same damn shirt that she’d bought for her back when Root’s number had come up. The only clothing she’d seen Root hold onto before were her leather jackets.

Root gripped Shaw's wrists and pulled them off her waist, raising them up to lay a kiss on the inside of each, a little too gently for Shaw’s taste. Then she twisted Shaw’s arms up and above her head sharply making Shaw grunt at the surprise jolt of pain. She grinned up at her.

“Now that’s more like it.”

Much, much later that night, Shaw woke up in her bed and glanced over to see Root sleeping peacefully under a spare blanket on the couch. She nodded to herself in satisfaction and then went back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of the views expressed on information privacy here are necessarily my own (or Root's, she's just trollin').
> 
> Hope Zoe turned out okay, she'll be around on and off in the future. Also before anyone asks I am not necessarily implying any particular pairing for Reese. I'm pretty cool with most pairings for him in general so take from it what you will.
> 
> I failed at sleeping this weekend but that means I caught up on writing so next chapter will be Thursday night. The Thursday/Sunday schedule I've been roughly aiming at seems to be working so far. Fingers crossed my job stays on sane hours so I can keep it up.


	10. Hideouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to say thanks again to everyone commenting and leaving kudos. It's what keeps me writing.

 

“It’s a nice place, but what do we need it for?” Shaw asked, looking around the house. Nice wasn’t a good enough word for what it was. A two-story brownstone in Murray Hill would run in the seven figures range easily, and while Finch’s funds could take the hit there were much cheaper places in the city.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Zoe added from where she was leaning against the island counter in the kitchen.

Root only smiled and shook her head. “Patience, Sameen.”

“And why did we have to take that insane roundabout route to get here?” Shaw continued, ignoring Root’s attempts to shush her.

Root cut a quick look towards Zoe and then back to Shaw. The meaning was clear: not in front of her.

Shaw let out a deep sigh and went back to poking around. The townhouse boasted three bedrooms and two bathrooms which in Shaw's opinion was ludicrous for a place in the city.

Root headed up the stairs and Shaw tagged along behind her. Zoe chose to stay downstairs, perhaps sensing that Shaw wanted to talk to Root in private.

Upstairs Root was examining one of the bedrooms, looking at the outlets on the wall.

“Okay, so why the hell do we need a place like this?” Shaw asked again.

Root looked up from where she was kneeling next to an outlet. “We’re going to have to get someone to upgrade the wiring in here. We’re going to be running a lot of hardware.” She made a face. “And we’re going to need better air conditioning, too. Maybe even a standalone unit. One of the big ones. And a better way to seal this room up.”

“ _Root._ ”

Root relented.

“If Samaritan comes online its going to have access to every single record of every camera feed in the city. It won’t take it long to figure out we’ve been coming and going from the library a lot.” Root stood up. “Technically it shouldn’t be able to recognize us, but it’s too risky. They could run standalone facial recognition software on old footage without even using Samaritan.”

“So you’re moving us to a fancy house? How is this less conspicuous?”

Root grinned and came over leaning against the wall next to her so their arms were just touching.

“Not _only_ a fancy house. We’re going to have two bases both with full tech setups to let you and Reese get numbers from Her and do your research. If it’s safe anyway.”

“Redundancy.” That made sense.

“We’re going to be as prepared as we possibly can,” Root said though she sounded less enthusiastic now.

Shaw glanced over at her and saw her face had twisted into that worried expression she often had now. She nudged her with an elbow. “Your machine is pretty good at covering all the angles.” She felt a lot more confident since her brief time communicating directly with her.

“Did you like talking to Her?” Root asked as if she could read Shaw’s mind.

Shaw shrugged. “It’s nice having an early warning for cops when I’m driving full speed.”

Root laughed. “I still can’t believe you used an all-powerful god as a fancy form of police radar.”

“Didn't really see it as using. She helped out because it was in both our interests.” And it had been more of a joint rescue effort than a matter of anyone using anyone else.

Root was looking at her strangely, an uncomfortably soft smile on her face as if Shaw had said something really profound.

“What?” Shaw asked, confused.

Root didn’t answer and instead pushed off the wall and headed back to the stairs.

When Shaw got downstairs Root had joined Zoe in the kitchen and was looking out the back windows.

“Did you two ever want that information I so painstakingly dug up on Decima?” Zoe asked. She was looking through the cabinets.

She’d offered to fill them in as soon as they’d arrived at the townhouse that a friend of a friend of hers was selling, but Root had insisted on looking through the rooms first.

“We’re ready now,” Root said. She hopped up to sit on the edge of the counter while Shaw leaned on a wall near the entrance to the room.

“So your friends have been very busy lately. I’m not sure how you knew about their little exploits with the government since it seems to be pretty locked down.”

“You found out,” Shaw pointed out.

Zoe smiled. “I’m very good at what I do.”

She shut the cabinet doors and moved over near Root. “It looks like they’re focused primarily on Washington. The House to be specific. There’s been payoffs going on, quite a few and massive amounts. Decima is incredibly rich, but it’s still a little excessive.”

“They need to work quickly,” Root said.

Zoe nodded. “Also someone I know said they’ve got quite a few little projects going on that aren’t strictly legal, though that’s not shocking. But one of them I thought you’d find interesting in specific from what John told me.”

Shaw wondered how much Reese had told her. She hadn’t given him any specific instructions regarding Zoe because she’d figured he wouldn’t tell her enough to endanger her.

“They’ve been diverting some funds through a few shell companies that get converted into cash and left at specific drop points throughout Brooklyn and Queens. No one was completely sure who picked up the money but the entire enterprise was called Freedom Fund.”

Shaw stiffened. Was that possible? Was it really that simple? But why?

“Shaw?” Root asked, watching her.

“Vigilance,” Shaw explained. “Freedom Fund? It has to be.” Someone at Decima had no imagination.

Her mind was spinning now as pieces dropped into place. “That’s how Vigilance always finds out about Decima’s targets. They’re leaking the information on purpose.”

Root’s eyes widened and then she nodded, face grim. “They’re the last piece of the puzzle.”

“How so?” Shaw asked. She still didn't understand _why_.

Zoe was looking back and forth between them, taking in everything. Shaw wished they weren’t talking about this in front of her, but she _had_ come through for them and if she knew a little more she’d know what to listen for.

“They’re going to need something real to convince congress. Vigilance is either their last push or their insurance policy. Or both. They probably don't even realize it.” Root sounded very sure.

“You said Collier told you they were planning something big,” Shaw said. She had a bad feeling about this.

“Something large enough to get national attention and convince congress that they need a new surveillance, ah, program.” Root quickly glanced at Zoe. She must have almost slipped up and mentioned AIs.

“Decima made their own terrorist group to help get their surveillance program picked up by the government?” Zoe asked. She made a considering sound. “That actually sounds like something they’d do now that I think about it.”

Root’s face had taken on that distant look that it always did when the Machine was talking to her. Shaw wanted to ask her what she was saying but letting Zoe know about the Machine wasn’t on the table.

“We’ll take this place,” Root said at last.

If Zoe was put off by the change in topic she didn’t show it. “I’ll let my contact know. How’re you going to handle the transaction?”

“Get us a bank account number,” Root said. “Your friend will get paid in full over the course of a week. They’ll get instructions on the rest of the details.”

Shaw was glad Root and the Machine were taking care of this part of the transactions; it sounded horribly boring.

“And I suppose you’ll want to know more about any Decima and Vigilance connections?”

“Yeah,” Shaw said. “We need dates. I doubt you’ll get the full plan, but if you can at least find out when…”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Zoe said and then turned to Root. “In return for all this…”

“You have another job for me?” Root asked. She looked eager and Shaw realized she must have missed her former career a bit. She still got to do some hacking while working for the Machine but it was probably a lot less and a different sort than she’d done before.

“There’s always someone who needs information to appear or disappear, so I'll always have work for someone with your skills.”

“I'd rather not stay here too long, and Shaw and I will have to take a very specific route out of here,” Root said. “But if you meet up with us later at the place we first met we can discuss the details.”

The circuitous route they’d taken to get here made more sense now: Root had been trying to keep them off all camera feeds to lessen the chance that anyone could ever associate this place with them.

After Zoe left, Shaw joined Root leaning against the counter.

“Wish Fusco had gotten something out of Collier,” she said.

She hadn’t expected much though. Collier was a true believer, completely dedicated to his cause. He wasn’t going to crack.

“It might not matter if he had,” Root replied. “If Vigilance has any sense at all they’ll switch up their plans after someone that important gets captured.”

“Aren’t they on Decima’s schedule?”

Root chewed on her lip. “Probably. If we're right then they’ve definitely been funding them.”

They stayed there in silence, watching the sun beams from the windows bathing the kitchen in soft light. This place _was_ really nice, Shaw admitted, but it wasn't her thing.

“So where is this second place you’re getting for us?” she asked.

Root seemed to snap back to reality and grinned mischievously. “Let’s just say it’s a fitting choice for going _underground_.”

 

* * *

 

“What is this place?” Reese asked as the lights switched on illuminating the dingy underground room. “Subway station?”

“Subway repair line,” Root answered heading over to the lit up train car that was parked at the station platform. “Completely abandoned of course. She thought it would make a good base of operations, though it took me forever to get the wiring done.” She made a face. “And it's filthy.”

She'd taken a long shower and had to wash her hair twice after her first day down here.

“Why here?” Reese was inside the train car now, looking at the multi-monitor display she had set up. That part had been way more fun and the crash course in wiring what was essentially a small building for power had been exhilarating. She'd never get sick of learning new things, especially not with the Machine in her ear guiding her.

“We're stealing power from the subway’s third rail. It's enough to power...well, a lot more than we'd ever need. Hopefully.” She followed Reese into the train car and grabbed one of the overhead hand rails, half hanging from it.

“This all secure?” Reese gestured at the monitors.

“Obviously.” Root was mildly offended that he thought it might not be.

Reese turned to look at her. “How come Shaw got to see the fancy house and I get the dirty hole in the ground?”

“Because--” Root let go of the handrail and walked down to the far end of the car. “--you get to help me clean it.” She held up a bucket and mop.

If she hadn't known Reese fairly well at this point she'd have been worried that his current expression was foretelling her painful demise.

“This is why Shaw offered to take the boring stakeout duty,” Reese muttered.

The bucket and mop weren't quite good enough for the years of New York grime encrusted on the floors and walls but after breaking through a wall with a sledgehammer and some back and forth between Reese and the Machine (with Root relaying messages) they found that the water to the old employee bathroom still worked and just needed to be turned on. They had to let it run for several minutes before the water was anything approaching clear.

“I don't care how desperate we get, I'm not drinking that,” Reese said wrinkling his nose.

They used duct tape to attach a hose to a water pipe and attempted to spray blast the platform, which, since the water pressure wasn’t great, mostly succeeded in moving the dirt around a bit and also drenched both of them when the duct tape slipped off and water sprayed everywhere.

“I should have been more suspicious about Shaw volunteering me to help you out,” Reese grumbled standing sodden and miserable in the middle of the room.

Root attempted to squeeze some of the gross water out of her hair. Apparently the Machine couldn’t warn her about sudden plumbing disasters.

“Honestly I’m surprised you agreed,” she said.

When she’d told Shaw about the subway and how much cleaning it was going to take Shaw had immediately decided to make it Reese’s problem, but Root had thought he’d find a way to get out of it.

“I’d say there are worse things to be stuck doing but right now that would be a lie.” Reese was standing with his arms held slightly out from his sides like a child in a puffy winter coat. Water was still dripping off him everywhere.

“Can’t argue with that.” Root re-taped the hose with more duct tape and went back to trying to wash away some of the dirt. “I have to say when I took a job working for an all-powerful AI this was one scenario I never imagined.”

Reese nodded in agreement and moved out of the way of the water, walking gingerly in his damp clothing. “Rethinking your life choices?”

“Not a chance.” She glanced up to see Reese almost inside the subway car. “Don’t get water near the electronics, John. I’d hate to have to tase you after we’ve been getting along so well.”

“I spilled coffee on Finch’s desk once. Never seen him so mad.”

Reese was facing away from her so she couldn’t see his expression but she’d wager a guess it was as carefully controlled as his voice. She turned the water off and dropped the hose to the floor, grabbing a mop and making vague attempts at trying to make some sort of progress.

“You know, I never properly thanked you.” She concentrated on the floor.

“For what?” His back was still turned.

“Finding Hanna.”

There was a drawn-out silence during which she focused her full attention on one small section of the floor. She wondered if she was inadvertently making it dirtier.

“You did thank me, actually,” he said finally.

“I did, but…” She trailed off. John had more or less hated her (as much as it was possible for him to hate anyone) at the time she’d thanked him. Somehow it felt like it didn’t count.

“It’s what we do,” John said. “We help people.”

She glanced up through her wet hair to see him standing in the door to the subway looking at the monitor setup with a carefully blank expression.

“I’m glad we found her,” he added quietly.

The Machine saved her from having to try and pick the right words from the messy tangle of thoughts in her brain.

“She says we’re about to get company,” Root said, smiling.

“Stakeout was a bust,” Shaw said as she came down the stairs into the station, Bear by her side. She stopped to survey the mess. “What the hell happened down here?”

“Reese failed at duct tape,” Root said dropping the mop and splashing over to where Shaw was standing at the edge of the spreading pool of water.

“Don’t you dare.” Shaw backed away glaring.

Meanwhile Bear sprinted past both women to happily splash in the dirty water.

“Bear, no!” Shaw groaned and pointed at Root accusingly. “This is your fault.”

Reese had come over from the subway car to stand a polite distance away and Shaw rounded on him next but stopped mid-accusation to grin.

“You guys look terrible.” She sounded delighted.

“Apparently this is all for the greater good,” Reese said, looking dejected.

Bear must have decided Shaw was missing out on the fun because he bounded back over and jumped up, putting his paws on her.

“Hey! No!” Shaw tried to back away and ended up slipping and landing in the water with Bear running around her triumphantly in circles. Shaw glared up at them. “I hate you both.”

“Guess you just got stuck with mopping duty,” Reese said offering a mop to Shaw who snarled at him.

“Sorry, sweetie, you’re joining in the fun now.” Root offered her a hand up which Shaw ignored, pulling herself up.

“You guys do know that it’s still really cold outside, right?” Shaw asked, straightening her wet clothes out as best she could. “We’re all going to die if we don’t get dry clothes before going out there.”

“I’ll call Fusco,” Reese said. “He can probably steal us some spare uniforms or something at the least.”

Root couldn’t hold back her evil grin. “And then when he gets here we can get him with the hose next.”

Reese gave her a _look_ but she saw Shaw’s mouth twitch a tiny bit and really that made the whole thing worth it.

“So this is our other new base?” Shaw asked, finally taking a moment to look around. “Guess I’ve stayed in worse places. Subway car is a cool touch.”

Root felt a small warm surge of pride. Shaw might have been a little weirded out by the townhouse, but the dark, dank subway station that had been the Machine’s first choice met with her approval.

“I’m sure it’ll feel like home in no time,” she said, looking around subway with new enthusiasm.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, Root, we’re here. Now what’re we looking for?” Shaw moved closer to the front of the bookstore that was off to one side of the entrance to Penn Station to get out of the wind. March was certainly doing its best to hold onto the winter weather this year.

Reese actually had a scarf on, pulled up almost to his nose.

“She’s not sure,” Root said over the comlink. She was back at the library since they’d all agreed it was best to keep using it as their main base of operations for as long as possible. Less chance of anyone associating the townhouse or the subway with them.

“Well, tell her to get sure before we freeze to death.”

“All She says is that it’s important for you to be here right now. She thinks someone’s coming to find you.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Reese said, voice muffled by his scarf.

“Trust Her.”

For a second Shaw wished she had the Machine talking directly to her again. She liked that Root was the go-between, it felt right somehow, but moments like these she wanted to be able to grill the actual information source. How often when Root withheld information was it because the Machine wasn’t filling her in either and she was lying to cover her ignorance?

“There. Coming up towards you at one o’clock.” Root sounded certain.

A man Shaw had never seen before was strolling towards them, an arrogant smile on his face.

She hated him already.

“I see you got our little message,” the man said as he came to a stop in front of them.

They exchanged a look.

“Message?” Reese asked.

“Who the hell are you?” Shaw followed up. No sense in beating around the bush.

“Apparently he asked Her for a meeting earlier through a security camera,” Root informed them. “She’s not completely certain, but there are very strong indications that he works for Decima.”

“Consider me...a messenger,” the man said.

“You work for Decima,” Shaw said, trying to look thoroughly unimpressed. “Big deal. I shoot twenty guys like you a week.”

She heard Root snort in amusement over the comlink at that slight exaggeration.

“I see there’s no putting one over on you,” the man said, still smiling in a faintly patronizing way. “But where are my manners?” He stuck his hand out. “Jeremy Lambert, at your service.”

Reese and Shaw both looked blankly at his hand until he withdrew it.

“So what do you want... _Jeremey_?” Reese asked, pushing the condescending tone right back at him.

“It’s not what I want that’s important. It’s what _you_ want.”

“And I suppose you’re going to tell us what that is now?” Shaw had known she was going to hate him.

“Harold Finch.”

She felt rather than saw Reese stiffen next to her and heard Root make a small noise over the comlink.

“Okay, we’re listening,” she said. She almost wished Reese wasn’t there. He and Root both had a tendency to fly off the handle when things got personal.

“You want Harold Finch back and we’re willing to do that for you. But we’ll want something in return.” Lambert smiled. “Something of equal value.”

Shaw heard a slight indrawn breath from Root.

“Sameen…” There was something in Root’s voice she couldn’t quite read but she really didn’t like it.

“Just spit it out,” she snapped at Lambert.

“You have a woman named Samantha Groves working with you though she might not be going by that name anymore. She’s...vexed us a few times. We’ve decided that if you can offer her up we’ll be grateful enough to give you Harold Finch back.” Lambert looked back and forth between them. “Trust me, this is a good deal for you. She’s nothing but trouble from what we can tell.”

Reese’s hand flashed out, fast as lightning, and grabbed Lambert by the collar of his jacket. Shaw saw a few nearby civilians glance over, nervous. This whole area was crawling with cops usually. This wasn’t going to end well if Reese lost it.

“What’s to keep us from using you as a bargaining chip instead?” Reese asked, voice low and deadly.

“John, that’s not…” Root started.

“Oh, all members of Decima are disposable,” Lambert said, completely unfazed. He didn’t sound like he minded being valued as such.

“Reese.” Shaw let her tone carry the warning.

Reese reluctantly let go of Lambert, brushing his coat back into place with a cold smile that was almost as terrifying as one of Root’s.

“This is the only offer you get,” Lambert continued. “You’d be wise to take it.”

“Ask him what the terms are,” Root interjected over the comlink.

Shaw gritted her teeth. She wanted to yell at Root and tell her to shut up, but that would give away to Lambert that they had someone else listening in.

“What’re the terms?” she asked.

“Shaw…” Reese didn’t sound happy.

“I’m so glad you asked.” Lambert’s smile could only be described as slimy. Shaw hoped that whenever they got to kill this guy she’d be the one to do it. Preferably in a messy way.

“Your side can choose the location,” Lambert continued. “Anywhere within the five boroughs and you can call us within an hour of the meeting time so we won’t have a chance to prepare anything.”

Shaw could prepare a hell of a lot in under an hour, but it wouldn’t be easy to ask for less time without knowing where Decima was coming from and she didn’t think that information was on the table.

“Okay. And you’ll, what? Dump Finch out the back of a van or something?”

“Nothing so uncivilized. You bring Ms. Groves and hand her over and we’ll hand over Finch. We’ll leave all the little details up to you.” Lambert raised his eyebrows as if his own generosity surprised him. “This is really a perfect deal for you.”

“How long do we have to think this over?” Shaw asked ignoring Reese’s quiet anger and Root’s strange silence.

“Twenty-four hours. We’ll be in touch again then and waiting for your answer.”

She hadn’t thought it was possible for Lambert to look even more pleased with himself, but his smirk had widened more.

“Okay. You’ll have your answer then.” She had toyed with the idea of shooting him in the leg and telling him that was her answer, but maybe not a great plan with all the cops in the area.

“I look forward to making a mutually beneficial deal with you,” Lambert said with a very fake little bow. Then he turned and wandered away into the crowd as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What’re you thinking, Shaw?” Reese asked as soon as Lambert was out of sight.

Root was still silent.

“I think...it’s late. We’ll have a team meeting tomorrow morning to figure this out. Nine am at the library.” She wanted to talk to Root alone before she made any decisions; the silence over the line bugged her.

Reese must have figured out that part because he only nodded. He reached up and switched off his comlink and after a second she did the same.

“I know you want to get Finch back,” she said carefully. “But this is a trap, John.”

“I know.”

“They probably won’t even bring Harold to the exchange site.”

Reese was looking at her silently, frowning.

“What?”

“You think I’d make that trade?” Reese asked.

Shaw felt off-balance. She knew Reese cared deeply about Finch, would do almost anything to get him back. She'd expected that trading Root for Finch should make sense to him in terms of sheer practicality (even though there was no way in hell she was standing for it). But apparently it wasn’t as simple as that.

Sometimes trying to figure out people exhausted her.

“People aren’t interchangeable, Shaw,” Reese continued, voice disapproving. “We’re going to get Finch back, but not that way.”

“Whoa, wait,” Shaw said holding up her hands. “I think we’re all pretty clear that we’re not exchanging anyone. The real question here is whether it’s worth it to pretend to take the bait for a shot at getting Finch back. We’re not giving them Root.”

Reese nodded and looked away. “I think sleeping on this is a good idea. I’ll try to think up some meeting place ideas that would give us an advantage. You’d better go make sure Root isn't about to do something stupid.”

Shaw frowned. “You think she'd agree to a plan like that?”

“If it was me they’d asked for…” Reese trailed off.

Shaw shook her head in disbelief. “But it's clearly a trap.”

“There's always a tiny chance it's not though. Hope is a powerful thing, Shaw. Makes people irrational.”

Shaw blew out a deep breath. How had either of these two idiots made it this far in life? They had the worst self-preservation instincts ever.

“Yeah, I’ll go talk to her.”

She opened a private channel.

“Root?”

“Wondered where you’d disappeared to.” She sounded way too guarded.

“Had to make sure Reese wasn’t going to shoot a tourist in frustration.” Shaw watched Reese’s back retreating towards the entrance to Penn Station to catch a subway no doubt. “You still at the library?”

“Haven’t budged.”

She wished she could get a better read on Root’s mood.

“Stay there. I’m on my way back.”

“I’ll see you soon then,” Root said a little too easily and signed off.

“Don’t you dare let her leave,” Shaw hissed at her dead comlink.

She didn’t get a direct answer but there was a slight buzz of static for a second, an acknowledgment perhaps. It’d have to do. She hurried towards the subway.

 

* * *

 

Shaw found her sitting in her old chair back in the cage in the library, fingers drumming a pattern on the desk. She’d shut the door to the cage behind her though it remained unlocked.

It worked as a Faraday cage, Shaw remembered, which meant Root was purposefully blocking out the Machine.

Not the most encouraging sign.

“Root, what the hell?” she asked, sliding the gate back.

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you’d stayed with Harold that day?” Root asked, watching her own fingers tap out a rhythm.

“No.” Wondering about how things might have been had never once helped her.

“Maybe he’d still be here.”

“And maybe he wouldn’t. And even if he was, Samaritan would still be a threat. It’s not worth thinking about.” She stayed in the entrance to the cage, keeping her distance for now. She wanted to do...something, but she had no idea where to even start.

“She wouldn’t tell me what the most likely scenario would have been if you’d stayed with Harold. You know why She wouldn’t, right? Because Decima wouldn’t have taken him.” Root sounded bitter and angry, though Shaw wasn't sure who at. Herself, possibly? She couldn't have done anything to change the outcome.

“You sayin' it was my fault then?”

Root looked up finally, surprise painting her features.

“No! But I’m the one you came after…”

“Which was my choice. You don’t get to take credit or blame for my choices. Everyone makes their own decisions and has to live with the results.”

Root looked away again. "Then you wouldn’t keep me from doing something that was my choice?”

“We’re not turning you over to Decima, Root. Not an option.”

“I’m sure John doesn’t feel that way.”

Shaw felt herself getting angry even though she’d been worried about the same thing. They’d both underestimated Reese.

“Actually he more or less told me I could go fuck myself if I thought there was a chance in hell he’d stand for any plan that involved giving you to Decima.”

Root’s fingers froze for a fraction of a second before resuming their pattern.

“Decima isn’t getting you. The Machine already told you as much, right?”

Root smiled, though there wasn’t any humor in it. “How would you know that? You two talking again?”

“No, but you locked yourself in a cage where you couldn’t hear her. Thought you were better than throwing a tantrum like this.” She was furious now, but it was a controlled rage. Quiet and contained, but still dangerous.

“She lost him, Shaw,” Root said quietly. “Her creator, Her father, She lost him. I owe Her everything and if there's even a chance I could get him back for Her.…”

“And what did she have to say about that?” Shaw asked.

Root didn’t respond this time though she did frown. Shaw let out a sigh and came over to where she was sitting, keeping her anger carefully in check. She hopped up on the table so she was sitting almost directly in front of Root.

“Listen, if I even think you’re going to try anything dumb I’ll lock you in this cage myself.”

“Why would you care?” Root asked, finally meeting her gaze. There was no accusation there, but no wistfulness either. She sounded tired.

Shaw’s hands gripped the edge of the table tighter. The problem was she did know exactly what she was supposed to say now. She’d read and watched enough dumb stories that she knew the lines by heart, but using words that weren’t her own wouldn’t have felt right.

She didn’t have her own words, though. Not for this, not for now.

“I should head out,” Root said after a minute, looking away. She scooted her chair back and stood up, moving towards the cage gate.

Shaw jumped up quickly and grabbed her arm, spinning her back around.

Root raised an eyebrow, a hint of her teasing smile floating to the surface. Somehow that only made Shaw angrier. And suddenly she had words.

“I’ve never been this angry before in my entire life,” she said. Her voice sounded calm, but there was fury pumping through her veins like adrenaline. This wasn't her thing, this whole situation, this conversation. She did _not_ share.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you much angrier,” Root said, but she was watching Shaw carefully, as if she were a feral cat.

“Trust me. I’m mad.”

“At me?”

“Yeah, Root. At you.” She’d run out of words again so she settled for grabbing Root by both arms and pushing her back into a bookshelf, gently though. Root went easily, a faint flicker of desire lighting her eyes.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Shaw continued calmly. “You and me are going to leave here together and you’re going to come over to my place and stay on the couch tonight. And then in the morning we’re going to meet up back here with Reese and figure out how we’re going to set up a trap for Decima. And if I even think for a split second that you’re going to run out on me I will knock your ass into next week and stick you back in here until I’ve personally killed every single member of Decima and dumped those tape drives in the east river.”

Root’s eyes had widened now and her expression was somewhere between surprise and disbelief.

“And I’d bet anything that if you did take off on your own the Machine would be more than willing to track you down for me,” Shaw added. She felt like she and the Machine had come to some sort of understanding before.

“Am I being clear?”

Root stared at her without breathing for a long second and then nodded. “Got it.”

“Good.”

Shaw wasn’t completely sure why she decided to kiss Root then, shoving her back into the shelves behind her a little, but not hard enough to be more than uncomfortable. She wouldn't allow herself to be rough when she was actually angry (as opposed to the habitual state of annoyance Root caused in her), even if Root enjoyed it. Something told her it wouldn't be right. Root let Shaw kiss her, opening her mouth for Shaw’s tongue, but it felt like she’d been drained of energy, only just managing to stay standing there.

So Shaw kept kissing her, on the mouth, the throat, the collarbone, sinking her teeth in just hard enough to illicit small whimpers from Root but not do any real damage. She didn’t stop until Root’s hands finally touched her, slipping up her back to pull her in closer.

Once she was sure she had Root’s full attention she pulled back a little.

“I came back for you that day. That was my choice and no one else’s. And I don’t regret it because that’s not how it works. You make decisions in the field and you live with the consequences and learn from them. But you don’t wallow in guilt.”

Root nodded, still breathing hard. “I think I got the message.”

“We’re going back to my place now.” Shaw released her fully and stalked out the door of the cage, waiting only long enough to make sure Root left as well before heading quickly back to the front of the library. She’d give Root a moment to deal with her electronic better half and she needed a minute to herself as well. Back there, that hadn't been something she was completely comfortable with and she needed to reset her mind, get back into familiar territory.

Her comlink buzzed again, another burst of static like earlier.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Shaw growled at it. “I promise I won’t let her do anything dumb, okay?”

There was a slightly longer buzz and then nothing else. She guessed that meant the cranky circuit board was satisfied for now. Probably. Interpreting vague machine noises was Root’s forte, not hers.

When Root finally joined her back near Finch’s desk she’d managed to breathe out some of the anger that had been coiling inside her like a tightly-wound spring. She didn’t comment on Root’s distracted look the entire way back, but she did everything in her power to make sure Root was focused on her for the next few hours.

“You here with me now?” she asked as they were catching their breath, Root half draped over her in a way she’d normally discourage.

“I’m right here, Sameen.” She sounded a little more like herself now.

Somehow one of Shaw’s arms had ended up folded over Root’s back, holding her in place. She thought about how her apartment had felt so chilly lately, and how if Root left now it might get cold again.

“Good,” she murmured. She’d banish Root to the couch in a little bit, but for right now this was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter probably Sunday night.


	11. Explosive Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the nice comments last time almost made me cry. You guys are the best.

 

Root woke up to warmth and sunlight streaming through a window. She blinked once or twice, trying to clear the fog from her brain enough to focus on her surroundings. She was at Shaw’s, but still in the bed, and Shaw was curled up next to her, head resting on Root’s chest and arm thrown over her waist. They must have both passed out before Shaw could send her to the couch.

She stayed still, enjoying the moment. Shaw was breathing softly, her breath tickling Root’s skin, her face peaceful in sleep. Root smoothed Shaw’s hair back as gently as possible, not wanting to wake her but unable to keep from touching her. She knew if Shaw woke up she'd never be allowed to stay here, but it was nice to steal a moment like this.

She only lingered in bed for a short while, carefully slipping out from under Shaw and pulling the covers back over her before she moved to the couch and settled back down. They still had a few hours before they had to get up and she needed the sleep.

It was colder alone on the couch and it took her a long time to fall back asleep.

She woke up to Shaw shaking her.

“Rise and shine,” Shaw said. “Time to go meet up with the boys.”

She sat up on the couch and threw the blanket back, enjoying the way Shaw’s gaze lingered on her. Shaw looked back up and a smile played around the corner of her mouth before she shook her head and turned away.

“We start back in with that and we’re never going to make it on time.”

“Why, Sameen, are you saying I’m a distraction?”

“Put some clothes on.” Shaw was already dressed and looked ready to go so Root gathered up her clothing as quickly as she could.

“She have any thoughts on this?” Shaw asked as Root pulled her shoes on. She didn’t need to specify who.

“She’s anxious to find Harold.”

Root could tell that the Machine was...off, not functioning as expected. Distressed maybe? Human emotions always seemed inadequate to describe Her. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d started understanding the...emotions (for lack of a better word) that She had, but now they felt like an extension of her own. Maybe it was the nature of the music She played her; the background notes had an almost subconscious effect on her.

And the problem was that she wanted to get Finch back as well. She felt weirdly like she’d stolen his place even if Shaw was the one making decisions about the numbers now. The Machine deserved to have him back if that was what She wanted.

“We all want him back,” Shaw said. “We gotta be smart about it, though.”

Root followed her out the door without answering. She was still considering whether or not she should try to strike up a deal with Decima without the rest of the team. Though it would be tough to ensure Finch’s safety if she was the only one present and Decima took her.

Plus she’d promised Shaw.

They walked down the sidewalk in silence, Shaw either content to stay quiet or sensing that Root was still sorting through her own thoughts.

Her brain got so messy sometimes, impulse fighting with logic. It was one of the reasons she loved having the Machine there all the time; She helped her organize the chaos. But right now She wasn’t helping.

Root glanced sideways at Shaw quickly, careful not to catch her eye. Shaw had been different yesterday. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been acting like herself (Shaw was always very firmly herself at all times, so unlike Root) but she’d been a little softer after they’d left the library, a little more tightly focused on Root, as if she’d been trying to read every tiny reaction she’d had. It was the sort of intense scrutiny that Root usually gave to Shaw and the reversal had been odd. Not bad, but new.

“Wonder when the cold is gonna let up,” Shaw said suddenly, pulling Root out of her thoughts.

Root waited to see if there was more to come.

“Course with the way the weather’s been the last few years it’ll probably go right from freezing to humid and gross.”

Shaw was...making small talk. About the _weather_. Shaw never made small talk.

“Something on your mind, Sameen?”

“Not particularly.”

They fell back into silence for another half a block.

“Something on yours?” Shaw asked finally.

Root frowned at the sidewalk. Why was it so hard for her to put her thoughts into words lately?

“What would you do if Decima had me?” she asked cautiously.

“Come get you back,” Shaw replied without hesitation. She said it like it was a done deal, like they hadn’t been trying unsuccessfully to find Harold for months.

“And if you couldn’t?”

Shaw stopped walking and pointed a finger at her. “Knock it off.”

Root stopped as well and smiled, scrunching her nose up at Shaw to try and lighten the mood.

“Just wondering how I rated,” she said, making it light, joking.

“You rate as a pain in my ass,” Shaw grumbled and started walking again.

Root hurried to catch up with her. Shaw’s answer had taken the last of her options away; there was no way she could give herself up to Decima if it meant Shaw was going to endanger herself coming after her. It was still a novelty, worrying about how her decisions might impact others.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the library.

Reese and Fusco had beaten them there and brought coffee and donuts which Shaw dove into with a vengeance, stuffing half a jelly donut into her face, powdered sugar flying everywhere.

“Wonder boy here filled me in on the latest,” Fusco said. It was still weird to see him here in the library. “If you can get even a sliver of credible evidence that something is about to go down I can get you help. The police force here isn’t a fan of Vigilance. Were celebrating the arrest of your buddy Collier before the feds showed up for him.”

Root wondered if Collier was Control’s guest now. It would be a nice irony that the last two people to lock her up were now stuck together.

“We’ve got two options here,” Shaw said, swallowing the last of her second donut. “Either we tell them to fuck off, or we meet up with them and make a try for extracting Finch.”

“If he’s even there,” Fusco reminded her.

“As much as I’d like to hope, I tend to doubt it,” Reese said. He didn’t look like he’d gotten a lot of sleep last night. “But if there’s even the slightest chance…”

Shaw nodded in agreement. “I don’t think we can sit this one out. So next questions are where and who goes.”

“There’s an overpass up in Queens that I know,” Fusco said. “Out of the way, pretty secluded. Mostly used for drug deals. Wouldn’t be a bad place if you were trying to stay off the radar.”

“Could work,” Shaw acknowledged. “Reese you go check it out after this.”

Reese gave a slight head nod.

“As for who’s going,” Root broke in, “clearly you’ll need me as bait.”

Shaw nodded in agreement.

“Probably will. Can’t imagine they’ll show at all unless they’re sure you’re with us. Plus we could use the Machine on our side for this one.” She went for another donut, this one with strawberry frosting and sprinkles. “Fusco can’t be there, obviously. Gotta keep him secret from Decima or our police connection will be in danger.”

Fusco didn’t look pleased but didn’t argue either. They were including him in their plans now, but they had to be careful. His ability to discreetly get them police backup was invaluable and they all knew it. Like Zoe, he was most useful if he remained a secret.

They hadn’t told him about McCourt, either. Fusco could deal with most of the illegal things they’d pulled, but at the end of the day he was a cop and they’d decided not to burden him with the weight of a congressman’s murder. Root wondered if he suspected anyway.

“Be good to have a sniper,” Reese added. “Keep the situation under control in case things go south.”

“Agreed,” Shaw said. “That’ll be me. You and Root will stay on the ground.”

Root wondered why Shaw wanted the sniping duty for herself. The Machine was buzzing in her ear about vantage points and controlling the situation from above. She hadn't even asked Her out loud but more and more She was answering Root's unspoken thoughts.

“And once we’re there?” Reese asked.

“Hard to plan too much until we see what we’re dealing with,” Shaw said. It didn’t sound like she was happy about that. “Find a good sniping spot when you check it out. Actually find all the good sniping spots so I can keep an eye out for Decima pulling the same stunt.”

“What if they actually bring Glasses?” Fusco asked.

It was the question that had been bugging Root the whole time, too.

“If we see him and we’re not too outnumbered I’ll take them out from above and you two can mop up. If he’s not there you both get out of there and I’ll cover your escape.”

“I’ll secure some ways out as well,” Reese said.

“Root, you’re the one with the think tank in your head, what do you two think?” Shaw asked.

The Machine hadn’t had much in the way to add to their plan, only relaying that She didn’t have enough solid data to work out all the statistics yet.

“She doesn’t have a better idea,” Root told the other three.

“Do you?” Reese asked and Root looked up at where he was leaning against a shelf looking far too calm for the entire situation.

“I think I need to go make sure my little team has everything they need before we do this,” she said.

“Root,” Shaw started.

She cut her off.

“We’re walking into a potential fire fight where we’ll almost certainly be heavily outnumbered, Shaw. This isn’t me being morbid--it’s common sense. Decima isn’t going to vanish if I do.”

Shaw’s lips twitched into an almost smile. “I can’t argue with that. Go deal with that after we’re done here.”

Shaw didn’t usually give her orders; Root had maintained her autonomy as a sort of independent contractor, playing only by the Machine’s rules, but with Her unsure of the outcome they both agreed it was best for her to follow Shaw’s lead on this.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.”

After that it was only a matter of hashing through a couple very small matters and then they all split up to get ready.

 

* * *

 

“How’re we looking, Shaw?” Reese asked resisting the urge to stick his hands in his pockets. When the hell was it finally going to warm up this year?

“Like sitting ducks,” Shaw responded over the comlink.

Reese and Root were standing under the highway overpass, away from the road and sheltering between two pillars. The pillars would be decent cover and more than Decima would have.

“Fusco, anything?” Shaw asked.

They’d agreed to let Fusco take up a sentry position, parked along the edge of the road they thought was the most likely approach where he could spot Decima coming but go unnoticed.

“Nothin’ here,” Fusco responded. “Maybe they got cold feet?”

“Know the feeling,” Reese muttered, stamping his feet on the ground.

He glanced over at Root, who was standing completely still, jaw clenched and eyes distant. He thought back to the little talking to Shaw had given him right before they’d left.

_“Listen, Reese, I need to know that you’re not gonna do something dumb like play the hero and run right into Decima fire if Finch is there,” she said, glaring at him in that intense way she had._

_“If they have Finch…” he tried to say._

_“If they have Finch and you do something dumb everyone ends up dead.” Shaw shook her head. “You can’t go off half-cocked on this one.”_

_“I won’t do anything to endanger Finch. Or you, or Root.”_

_“Or yourself,” Shaw said firmly. “And about Root--” She glanced around the library quickly to make sure Root hadn’t snuck in or something. “--it’s really fuckin important you keep a level head because I need you to make sure she doesn’t do something dumb either.”_

_Reese snorted. “Sure you don’t want to be the one on the ground with her? I don’t think I could stop Root from doing what she wanted.”_

_“And risk you or Root getting trigger happy if Finch showed up? No way. If the situation goes south I’ll be in the best place to level the playing field.”_

_“And if Root decides to take matters into her own hands?” he asked._

_“Knock her the fuck out and drag her back to Fusco.”_

_“She’ll_ love _that.”_

It occurred to him now that Shaw had probably told him to watch Root to keep him in line more than anything else. If Root really decided she wanted to take on a Decima squad he wouldn’t put it past her to succeed. Even without the Machine in her head she was bloodthirsty in a terrifyingly efficient way.

“You good?” he asked her quietly.

“I’m fine, John. Worry about yourself,” she replied, eyes never leaving the road. Her voice was cold, barely holding back anger. He knew it wasn’t aimed at him, but he’d never really understood how angry she was about Finch’s loss until these last two days. Maybe it was partly because of the Machine and its feelings about Finch, but whatever the reason, he was glad to finally see someone else echoing his own feelings. It was almost reassuring.

“It see anything?” he asked, glancing up at one of the small wireless cameras they’d mounted around the area. The feeds were all going to Fusco’s car which had wi-fi so the Machine was getting a clear view as well.

“She’ll let me know as soon as She does,” Root said.

“Where the hell are they?” Shaw grumbled. “It’s fucking cold out.”

Shaw was on the roof of a building right across the street with a pretty clear shot of the whole area, and while it was probably windy up there Reese had also spotted a couple utility boxes that could provide cover and still allow for a viable sniping position. Down here there was nothing but the pillars of the overpass to block the wind and they were almost no use. He refrained from commenting though.

“She sees them,” Root said.

“Think we got company,” Fusco said only a half-second later. “Two black SUVs headed your way, tinted windows. I’ll run the plates but I bet anything they’re fakes.”

“Here we go,” Reese said moving out of the cover of the pillars so they were more in the open where Shaw could see them clearly. Root followed him silently.

The two SUVs pulled off the road into the dirt a little ways away from them.

“Area is still clear on the sniping front,” Shaw said. “Haven’t seen anyone else except some drunk teens.”

The back door to one SUV swung open and a man in an uncomfortable-looking suit climbed out. He looked at them both for a long minute, glanced down at the phone in his hand, and then his eyes snapped back up to fix on Root.

Reese tensed, his instincts screaming at him that something was off.

“Get back!” Root snapped, shoving him to the side.

Reese had a glimpse of the windows of the SUVs rolling down and the man pulling a weapon out, aiming. He cursed under his breath, moving without thinking to get in front of Root.

A shot rang out, loud and jarring, and the man outside the SUV crumpled and collapsed. There were shots coming from the windows of the vehicles now though and Reese grunted in pain when he felt a shot hit him in the side. And then he was suddenly falling over sideways and being yanked behind one of the metal pillars.

“Not the time to play hero, John,” Root said from where she crouched near him. “But the thought was nice.” She grinned, her face lit up with the thrill of the situation, clearly enjoying herself as she fired off a few shots around the pillar.

Reese put his hand to the wound on his left side and his fingers came away bloody. He grunted and shoved that aside to deal with later. The adrenaline would get him through this hopefully.

“You two doing okay?” Shaw asked over the comlink. “I shot out their back window and got one of the guys in the back but I don’t have a clear shot at the rest of them.”

“Any sign of Finch?” he asked, pulling himself up into a crouch and risking a careful look around the pillar.

“She says he’s not here,” Root said. She fired another blind shot at the head SUV and then leaned back against the pillar she was behind. “Shaw, sweetie, I brought a present for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“How good a shot are you?” Root continued, grinning as she fished something out from inside her coat.

Shaw snorted and didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“Get ready,” Root said and leaned around the pillar and threw something up towards the SUVs.

A shot rang out from Shaw’s position and whatever it was that Root had thrown exploded into a huge ball of fire. The front SUV turned into an inferno of flames, a secondary explosion ripping from it.

The second SUV tore out of there, windshield shattered and one tire shredded. It sped up and lurched down the road as quickly as the flat tire permitted.

There was a long moment of silence while the tension drained out of all of them.

“You were carrying some sort of homemade explosives in your _coat_?” Reese asked Root in horror. What if a bullet from Decima had hit it?

“I thought it might come in handy,” Root said as if it were the most logical thing ever. She reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “We didn’t blow up so there’s no need to make a fuss, John.”

He thought he caught a snicker from Shaw over the comlink but he couldn’t be sure. He stood up and clenched his teeth at the sharp pain in his side. In front of them the first SUV was still blazing brightly. There was no way anyone had survived that.

“Fusco, you’d better bring the car around,” Root said into the comlink. “John managed to walk into a bullet.”

“You okay, Reese?” Shaw asked. “I’ll be down there in a second.”

“I’ve had worse,” he said, though his head was swimming a little and there were faint dark spots in his vision. “Probably could use a doctor though.”

He tried to shake Root off when she slipped his arm over her shoulders and took some of his weight but quickly gave up.

“They didn’t have Finch,” he said, fighting down a whimper of pain as Root helped him towards the edge of the road.

“It was always a long shot,” Root said.

“Waste of time then,” he said. He’d gotten shot for nothing.

“Decima must want us dead pretty badly to try something that obvious,” Root agreed.

He wanted to ask her if that meant they were getting ready to act, but Fusco had pulled up in his car and Shaw was jogging over to meet them. He decided further questions could wait until someone dug the bullet out of his side.

 

* * *

 

“He’s going to be pissed when he wakes up,” Root said, standing over where Reese was unconscious on the couch at the safe-house.

Shaw shrugged, packing up her medical supplies. “He needs the rest.”

Root glanced back at her with a half-smile. “You told him it was a painkiller.”

“It _was_ a painkiller,” Shaw defended herself. “Just happened to be mixed with something that would knock him out for a few hours.”

“He gonna be okay?” Fusco asked. He’d sat over at the table to stay out of the way while she worked on Reese.

“He’ll live,” Shaw allowed. The bullet hadn’t hit any vital organs; he’d gotten really damn lucky yet again. “Probably needs to take it easy for a week.”

“If we have a week,” Root said, dropping into a chair.

“Decima is going to move before the week is over?” Fusco asked. “Just great. That’s exactly what this lousy week needed.”

“What makes you think they’re up to something?” Shaw asked. She’d finished putting things away and came over to sit in another chair near Root.

“Zoe Morgan got in touch with me while you were patching up John.” Root had found a paperclip somewhere and was working on unbending it.

Shaw had thought at first that Root’s fidgeting was some sort of nervous habit, but now that she had a better read on her she thought it might be an outlet for her seemingly endless restless energy. It she couldn’t type, she needed something else to keep her fingers busy.

“I thought Zoe went through Reese for stuff,” Shaw said, not that she really cared.

“We exchanged numbers,” Root said, smiling and scrunching up her nose at Shaw. “We’re like bffs now.”

It had been too long since Shaw had gotten a good eye roll in.

“What did you bestest buddy have to say, then?”

“A couple things.” Root had mostly straightened the paperclip now and was bending it again. “First of all, she thinks Decima probably has enough House members in their pocket now to get something through to the Senate.”

Shaw nodded, resigned. “I mean we knew it was coming.”

“Also Decima’s last money drop to Vigilance was substantially larger than the last few,” Root continued.

“What should I be gettin’ prepared for?” Fusco asked. “The apocalypse?”

Root gave him a tolerant smile. “Not quite yet.”

Despite the current conversation topic Shaw was slowly letting the tension drain out of her. She’d been completely wired since the SUVs had shown up and was finally starting to come back down from the adrenaline high.

“The Machine told me that Samaritan is going to get a beta test run. Here, in the city. I guess Greer convinced Control’s pet senator to make it happen.”

“Samaritan is getting fired up here?” Shaw felt the tension coming back.

“Quite probably. She thinks we might have a day or two at most.”

“But it’s just a test, right?” Fusco asked. “Not the real deal?”

“Samaritan won’t be running at even close to full capability in Her estimates.” Root paused her fiddling for a second and seemed to be listening closely to the Machine. “But we’re going to need to take precautions. Fusco, you should be fine, but the three of us will need to stay off the grid. We’re going to be the primary targets.”

Shaw nodded. “Based on their attempt to mow us all down earlier that’s not really a leap.”

“As for Vigilance’s plan, Zoe thinks she has a source who can find out more,” Root continued.

She tossed her paperclip at Shaw who caught it and examined the new shape it was in. Fuckin’ Root had turned it into an awkwardly-shaped heart. Shaw gave her a _look_ and crushed it before dropping it on the coffee table. Root looked entirely too pleased with herself, like she was barely holding back laughter. Really? Were they in high school?

“Hope she works fast then,” Shaw said.

Root nodded in agreement, amusement smoothing away from her face. “We’ve got all the fake identities worked out now so the only big thing left is to get those servers where they need to go.”

“And where’s that?”

“New Jersey.”

It figured that the most evil being ever to exist would make its lair in New Jersey, Shaw thought.

“So let’s load them up and hit the road,” she said, now impatient to get back to work. Ten seconds of relaxing was more than enough.

Root shook her head. “Not yet. They’re not done and anyway we need to deliver them as close to the time Samaritan really comes online as possible. Less chance of someone finding out what we’re up to.”

“What the hell can we do then?” Shaw asked, frustrated. If Vigilance and Decima were gearing up for something she wanted to be out there getting ready.

“The best thing we can do is sit tight and finish the work on the servers,” Root said. “Let Fusco and Zoe do the leg work.”

“Play it safe?” Shaw groaned. “That sounds boring as hell.”

“I can make it interesting for you.” Root was smiling suggestively.

“If you two are going to start in on that, I’m gonna take off,” Fusco said, getting up. “Nothing personal, but being a third wheel ain’t my thing.”

“We need any information of Vigilance’s movement you can get us,” Root called after him as he headed towards the door.

“I’ll see what I can dig up. Someone let me know how the big guy is doing.” He motioned at Reese with his chin.

“Will do,” Shaw acknowledged.

After Fusco left Root got up and stretched. “I’m probably going to stay with the servers until it’s safe to come out. The Machine thinks Decima will only get a twenty-four hour window to start with.”

“I don’t like hiding.” Shaw wanted to be out finding where Decima was working and filling the place with bullets. “Is there any way to track them down now?”

Root had wandered over to look down at Reese’s sleeping form again. She grabbed a blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and carefully spread it over him.

“She tracked the GPS in the surviving SUV,” Root said. “If she finds anything worth looking into she’ll let us know.”

She was still watching Reese sleep. “I’m glad he's okay,” she said quietly. “I was worried when I saw him get hit.”

Shaw wondered what that would feel like, the panic that would set in. It had always struck her as being a weakness, a distraction, and while Root hadn’t let it stop her for even a second, she’d also been the one to watch Shaw taking the bullet out of him with a face slightly too pale.

It wasn’t that Shaw hadn’t been worried about Reese, there’d definitely been relief after she’d finished bandaging him up, but she hadn’t thought about putting a blanket over him. The safe-house was pretty warm and he didn’t need it so why bother?

“I don’t get it,” she blurted out.

Root turned back around. “Get what, sweetie?”

“The Machine chose you, or you chose each other, but why me?” Why not some other ISA agent? Or another nerd like Root and Finch?

Root looked genuinely surprised but recovered quickly. “You know, Shaw, even if the Machine and I agreed on nothing else I think we’d agree on you.”

Shaw shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Root must have noticed because she continued almost at once.

“Someone’s got to balance out the rest of us.”

That made more sense to Shaw. “Yeah, well, you and Reese are so gung-ho on getting yourselves killed.”

Root gave a little shrug and smile that could have meant anything. “I’m going to head back to the other safe-house and help speed things up. We’re on a tight schedule now.”

“I’m gonna stay with sleeping beauty here,” Shaw said. She had no interest in watching the little geek squad fussing over a bunch of computers. Watching Root hack was one thing, but whatever they were doing over there was less impressive even if it was more complicated.

“You’re welcome to come join us for the twenty-four hour lockdown when that hits,” Root said.

“Cooped up with nerds for a whole day? No thanks.”

“You’re pretty handy yourself with the nerd work.” Root had come over to her and plunked herself down on the arm of the chair, only barely not touching her. Shaw wondered if that had been some sort of terrible innuendo, but Root’s face wasn’t giving away anything for a change.

Root wanted her there, Shaw could tell. She’d gotten much better at reading her lately. She was so over-the-top with most things that her real intentions were easy to miss unless you knew what to look for.

“Splitting the team up with Decima breathing down our necks doesn’t make a lot of sense,” she allowed. “Maybe I’ll drag Reese over and we can all wait it out together.”

Root half-lifted a hand towards Shaw but then pulled it back. Shaw was almost disappointed; brushing Root off was mostly for show now. She liked the contact unless it got too suffocating. It was easier to understand than all the messy emotions.

“I’ll try to give you as much warning as possible,” Root said, getting up and heading towards where she’d left her coat.

“I’ll be here.”

Root departed with only a quick “See you around” and Shaw was left alone with slumbering Reese.

“Probably better to have both of you somewhere where I can keep an eye on you,” she told him. “How’d I get stuck with a bunch of martyrs on my team?”

Reese snored gently.

“Worse people to ride out the apocalypse with, I guess” She stood up and went to go raid Finch’s liquor cabinet. It had been a long couple days.

 

* * *

 

Shaw jerked awake when Reese stirred on the couch. She groaned and stretched, sore from sleeping in the chair. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all.

Reese immediately tried to sit up, whimpered, and lay back down.

“Yeah, you might not want to move yet,” Shaw said, getting up and rubbing at her stiff neck.

“You drug me, Shaw?”

“Had to make sure you’d stay still so it was either that or let Root tase you.”

Reese groaned. “In that case, thanks.”

Shaw walked over to the small kitchen area and poured a glass of water and brought it back to Reese. She managed to help him sit up without too much complaining on his part.

“Root says Samaritan is going to get a twenty-four hour test drive in the next few days,” Shaw told him as he drank. “We’re gonna need to hunker down somewhere until it blows over.”

“We sure it’s going to blow over?”

Shaw sat on one arm of the couch, not willing to go back to the chair that had just ruined her back.

“Root and the Machine seem pretty sure.”

“I guess they’d know.” Reese put the empty glass down on the coffee table. “If the Machine still is what we think it is.”

Shaw was lost. “Wanna fill me in on what that's supposed to mean?”

“At the ambush, you and Root blew up a car full of Decima agents.”

“Yeah, to save your asses.” She still didn't see where he was going with this.

“Root was ready for that. She planned in advance.”

“Yeah and it may have saved both your lives. What's your point?”

“Would Root have done that if the Machine didn't approve?” Reese’s gaze was intent, probing for a reaction.

Shaw took a minute to think it through. Sure Root did risky, unpredictable stuff all the time, and she'd never been opposed to killing, but she'd also abided by the Machine’s rules. And the Machine definitely discouraged killing. Would Root have disobeyed her?

She remembered the shoot out between the two Vigilance teams that day Root had gotten her implant. The Machine had caused several deaths to keep her safe then. Was this similar? It felt more premeditated, though it didn't particularly bother her. She was just glad they'd all gotten out of there alive.

“You saying the Machine is dangerous, Reese?”

He gave a dry laugh that turned into a groan of pain. “I'm saying it’s changing rapidly and we don't know what it is anymore.”

She didn't know how to answer that so she didn't try. It was something to keep an eye on anyway. If there was more evidence then maybe she'd talk to Root.

“So what’s the plan for this Samaritan test?” Reese asked, getting back to business.

“We’re all going to hole up in the safe-house that Root’s pet nerds have taken over.”

Reese looked aggrieved. “Really?”

Shaw shrugged helplessly. “Splitting the team up when we can’t communicate is bad news, and Root thinks maybe we can help. I don’t like it either though, especially with Vigilance gearing up for something big. We need to be out there doing something.”

Reese frowned, studying the floor intently for a minute.

“Do we have any more information on what Vigilance might be up to?” he asked finally.

“No, though I got the impression Zoe has her ear to the ground.”

“Zoe’s better suited for getting information on politicians and rich corporations,” Reese said. “Underground terrorist groups aren’t her thing. Not usually, anyway.”

“What’s your point?”

“What if there was someone else who might have information?”

Shaw’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’re only bringing this up now because…?”

Reese gave a weak smile. “Honestly? It didn’t occur to me. And also he’s gonna want something in return.”

“Doesn’t everyone,” Shaw muttered. “Okay, Reese, fill me in here.”

“Carl Elias.”

Shaw’s eyes widened. “The mob?” She considered it. “I guess that would make sense. If anyone would have information on a clandestine gang operating out of the city it would be Elias.”

Reese leaned forward with a grimace and found a pen on the coffee table and scribbled an address on the back of a receipt.

“Not sure if any of his guys are still here, but it’s a good place to start.”

“You’re not going to insist on coming with?” Shaw asked, surprised. She’d been expecting to have to fight him on it.

“I feel fucking awful.”

Shaw snorted. “Well, lie your weak ass back down and stay on comlink with me in case I need info.”

“Will do.”

Shaw felt slightly better as she left the safe-house. There were things that she and Reese could do while they waited, actions that could be taken. It was a good feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually from NJ originally and spent most of my life there so I'm allowed to take cheap shots at it. It's a love/hate thing really.
> 
> Fair warning, I'm not writing Elias's meeting with Shaw. I might write Elias stuff later on though.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [ Release](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/27769836) rated E.


	12. Beta Test

 

“Why do they keep staring at me?” Shaw hissed at Reese.

They were sitting on either side of the long table at the safe-house in the middle of what felt like their thousandth game of poker. Root’s group of tech-heads, three men and two women, had been shooting looks over at them for the last few hours.

“I think it’s because you keep glaring at them, Shaw,” Reese said evenly. “Call.”

Shaw tossed her cards down. “I have jack shit. Congratulations, you won...a pile of whatever the fuck these are.”

“They’re DVI to VGA converters,” the closest nerd, Daniel she thought, filled in eagerly. “You use them for monitor cables…” He trailed off at her look.

“Why do you have so many?” Reese asked Daniel, clearly trying to make up for Shaw’s lack of manners.

Apparently he’d made Daniel pull out his molars at some point in the past, but they seemed to have put that behind them. Well, Reese had anyway.

“They’re one of those things that seems to just multiply on their own,” Daniel said with a nervous laugh. “Always end up with a ton of them.”

Shaw growled in frustration and slammed her hand into the table, causing playing cards to fly everywhere and Daniel to beat a hasty retreat.

“How long has it been, Reese?”

They’d gotten a call from Root yesterday that Samaritan’s beta test was about to go live and had both hauled ass over to the safe-house where they'd been cooped up ever since. At first Root had handed off some smaller computer tasks to them, simple things like installing hardware, wiping drives, running diagnostics, but Root had vanished into the bedroom over three hours ago and none of her subordinates seemed inclined to give them anything else to do.

“It’s been about twenty minutes since the last time you asked.” He sounded way too calm though that might be from all the painkillers he was still on for the gunshot wound.

“How are you not going crazy? We’ve been stuck here forever and with what we found out about Vigilance…”

Her meeting with Carl Elias had been...interesting. It had taken a bit of bantering to get him to admit to even knowing who Vigilance was and then after that it had mostly been negotiations. And while the ‘favor to be named at a later date’ she’d agreed to give Elias was a bit unsettling, the information he’d provided them had been even more so. It was pretty clear Vigilance was gathering up the materials to build a homemade bomb, and from the amount of materials Elias thought they had it was going to be a pretty big bomb.

“We can’t move on Vigilance with Samaritan watching the whole city,” Reese reminded her. “And we only know that they plan to blow up something, but not what.”

“We should be out there looking for their target then.” Shaw slouched in her seat. She knew it couldn’t have been more than eight or nine hours here so far, but finally she and Reese had been on the trail of something real and now they were stuck. It hadn't really been _that_ long, but the simple fact that she wasn't allowed to leave was driving her nuts.

“We’ll be back out there as soon as Samaritan shuts down.” Reese was still being infuriatingly calm about all of this.

Shaw stood up so forcefully she knocked her chair over causing everyone to turn and look at her. She treated the entire room to a glare.

“I’m going to go talk to Root.”

Reese raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t she say not to disturb her?”

“Tough.” Shaw resisted the urge to kick the fallen chair out of her way and went over to the bedroom door and banged on it. When there was no immediate response she tried the handle and found it unlocked.

She opened the door a little and stuck her head in. All the lights were off inside but Root was illuminated by the glow of her laptop where she sat leaning against the headboard of the bed, working in the dark. Shaw came in and shut the door behind her when Root failed to even glance up at her.

“You’re gonna ruin your eyes working in the dark,” she said when Root stayed silent.

A tiny smile curled around the edge of Root’s lips. “You worried about me, sweetie?” Shaw could tell Root was only half-focused on her.

“Making sure you don’t go blind and shoot me in the back on a mission.”

“Hmm,” was Root’s only response. Her typing never slowed down.

Shaw came over and sat down on the bed next to her on her left side, trying to get a look at what she was working on. It was, unsurprisingly, code of some sort. Shaw couldn’t place the language but the syntax was recognizable enough.

“Everything alright out there?” Root asked after a few minutes of Shaw watching her type.

“I guess so. Reese cheats at poker, your nerd herd are annoying, and I’m bored.” She’d been trying to get some sense of what Root was programming, but as far as she could tell she was writing a bunch of little recursive helper methods. No good way of telling what the larger functionality was from that.

“Sorry I can’t be more entertaining,” Root said. “Things are going to be pretty busy from now on.”

“I don’t mind busy.” Shaw leaned back against the headrest and stretched her legs out. “It’s sitting around doing nothing I mind.”

“Hmm,” Root said again, clearly not listening anymore.

Root appeared to be commenting her code now though the comments were more along the lines of ‘why does this work? this shouldn't work?’ and ‘this is really hacky, maybe rewrite it later?’ than anything hinting to its purpose.

“She giving you a hand with that?” Shaw asked. She knew she probably shouldn’t be distracting Root, but she also wanted to know what the hell she was working on that was so important.

Root stopped typing for a second and her jaw tightened. “No.” She went back to typing.

“Root?” What the hell had that been about?

“We’re all off the grid for now,” was all she said.

It took Shaw a minute to realize what she meant.

“The Machine isn’t talking to you?”

“She can’t be sure it’s safe right now. So She’s cut down to only essential communication.” She shook her head a little though her eyes never left the screen. “I forgot how quiet it could get.”

“She’ll be back as soon as the twenty-four hours are up, though, right?”

Root let out a long breath. “Yes. She’ll be back then.” She didn’t sound reassured.

“This sucks.”

Root chuckled at that and then stopped typing again. “It’s...I don’t like it when She stops talking completely. There’s usually always something, even if it’s background music. When Control….” She chewed her lip for a second before continuing. “When I lost my hearing in my ear I tried to tell myself it was okay because I could still hear Her. But without Her…” She shook her head and went back to typing.

Shaw shifted on the bed a little. She was pretty sure Root needed some sort of reassurance, but she wasn’t sure what would actually help right now. She couldn’t fix this problem.

“What’re you working on?” she asked instead.

“A weapon.”

Shaw elbowed her gently when she didn’t elaborate. “What sort of weapon? Something to use against Samaritan?”

Root nodded. “When Samaritan came online for this test the Machine performed a very risky scan of its systems before it had time to fully spin up. She got some code snippets for me to look at and I’m working on trying to write something we can use against it.”

She stopped typing again, fixed her screen with a considering stare, and tapped a single finger against her lips. “It has to be something that Samaritan won’t recognize as not its own. I’m not sure I have enough examples to pull this off, but it’s worth trying.”

“So you’re trying to camouflage the code?” Shaw knew enough programming to know that was a terrible way of wording it, but she wasn’t exactly sure what else to call it.

“No, more like....” Root chewed her lip again, searching for the right words no doubt. “The way we’re protecting ourselves and the Machine from Samaritan will be showing it something else when it looks for us. It’s like if you looked in a mirror but your brain edited out your reflection and all you saw was the room behind you.” She shrugged. “I guess camouflage isn’t a bad word after all.”

“Okay, so what are you trying to hide with this bit?”

“I’m trying to hide the code itself. Much trickier.” She smirked. “But I'm really good at what I do.” She half-turned to look at Shaw, face lit with that obnoxious infatuated smile. “As you well know.”

Shaw chose to ignore this obvious attempt to distract her from the topic and looked at the screen, pretending not to see Root's pout. “So when Samaritan sees this part of its own code it’ll see something else?”

Root waved a hand. “I mean, no, that’s completely wrong, but the analogy works well enough.” She only looked a little disappointed by Shaw's failure to engage.

“And what’s the code supposed to do?”

“It’s not going to _do_ anything exactly. It’s going to provide us with a backdoor into Samaritan’s system. Potentially we could use that to do all sorts of things.”

“That sounds useful.” It was the best news she’d heard all day.

“Yes, but the trouble is there’s a good chance it’ll only work once. Samaritan will learn really quickly and be able to fix its own code once it realizes there’s a problem.”

“Better make sure we take it out in one shot then.”

Root returned to typing without replying, all traces of her earlier flirtatiousness gone.

Shaw watched her for a few more minutes before she slid down the headboard so her head was on one of the pillows and she was sprawled across the bed on her back.

“Taking a nap, sweetie?” Root asked, looking down at her with a smile.

“Yeah, maybe. Not much else to do.” The dark room had reminded her brain that she hadn’t actually slept in quite awhile. “Wake me up when I can get back to work.”

Root dropped her left hand onto Shaw’s stomach and stroked back and forth with her thumb, still typing just as fast with her right hand. The gentle touch felt nice so Shaw didn't try to move her hand. Like this it was hard to remember that an evil AI god was reigning over the world outside.

“Sorry about the Machine not talking to you,” she said quietly. She hoped that was the right thing to say.

Root’s thumb froze for a second before resuming its path. She paused long enough to smile down at her with something that might have been gratitude.

“Get some sleep, Sameen.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw took a moment to enjoy breathing the free air again as she watched Bear gallivanting around the park. Even though it was still very early in the day the park was already crowded, but anything was better than being cooped up. The day-long incarceration had been unnecessarily taxing on her patience and the crisp, cold breeze made her feel like life was returning to her.

It was odd to think that Samaritan had been able to access the whole city the day before. She'd expected things to be different somehow, but everything looked normal. It was bizarre.

“Shaw? We’ve got a problem.”

She wondered if she ignored Reese’s voice over her comlink if he’d go away and let her have another few minutes of enjoyment. But being in charge meant dealing with problems even when she’d rather be chasing Bear.

“What sort of problem, Reese?”

Of course that was exactly when Root decided to cut into their supposedly private call.

“Hey, kids, so we have a bit of a situation on our hands here.”

“I know that,” Reese said reproachfully. “I was just about to tell her.”

“I think we may have different problems,” Root countered. “And mine is clearly more important.”

“How?”

“Well, I _do_ have an AI on my side and She says…”

“Both of you shut up!” Shaw snapped. She pinched the bridge of her nose and patted Bear reassuringly when he came over to make sure she was okay. “Okay, now one at a time. Reese started first so he goes first.”

Root made a disapproving noise but didn’t otherwise object.

“As I was saying,” Reese said with only the hint of gloating in his voice. “One of Elias’s group got in touch with me a few minutes ago. Sounds like Vigilance is gearing up for their big move. He thinks he knows where they’re targeting. Your turn, Root.” He sounded smug.

Shaw rolled her eyes at both of them despite the fact neither could see her.

“I love it when you think you’ve figured out something important,” Root retaliated. “It’s precious, John.”

“ _Root_.” Shaw was ready to punch both of them.

“So, on the _actually_ important side of things we have a group from Washington on their way to the city tonight. Zoe knows someone who knows someone who was in charge of making all their travel arrangements here. The Machine is pretty sure they’re coming to discuss Samaritan with Decima. This is going to be the final push.”

“Well, it’s no coincidence these two things are happening at the same time, right?” Shaw asked. “I mean you said it yourself Root, Vigilance is probably Decima’s last push for getting Samaritan online.”

“She thinks Vigilance may target this group,” Root allowed. “Nothing like some up close and personal time with terrorists to motivate them.”

“Who’s in this group?” Shaw asked. She snapped Bear’s leash on and headed out of the park, towards the library.

“Our old friend Control, for starters. Also her pet Senator, Ross Garrison, the president’s Intelligence Adviser, Manuel Rivera, and Kyle Holcombe, the director of the NSA,” Root listed off. “Quite the little party they’re going to be having.”

“And Vigilance is planning to crash that party,” Reese pointed out.

“To what end though?” Shaw asked. “Blow them up with the explosives they’ve been hoarding? That doesn’t make any sense.” They were missing something. “Both of you meet me back at the library as soon as possible.”

“On my way,” Reese said, signing off.

“Sorry to ruin your day at the park, sweetie,” Root said before signing off as well.

Shaw shook her head and picked up her pace, Bear trotting at her side. At least the waiting was over; finally they could do something.

 

* * *

 

“A post office?” Shaw looked between Root and Reese for an explanation. “Why the hell would Vigilance be smuggling ingredients for a bomb into the basement of an abandoned post office?”

Root watched her pace back and forth. She’d been wandering around impatiently since Root had gotten here, Bear watching her sadly from his dog bed.

“Elias’s man didn’t know anything about why, only where,” Reese said. He was slouched in a chair, long legs stretched out in front of him.

“We know where and when, that’s more than enough,” Root cut in, drumming her fingers on the desk. She felt like she’d regained her balance now that the Machine was back in her head where She belonged, but She was concerned with their sudden lack of time and that made Root concerned as well.

“I’d rather know what we’re walking into,” Reese argued. “What's Vigilance up to?”

“More importantly, what's Decima up to?” Shaw asked. “I mean, they’re the ones controlling Vigilance, right?”

Root nodded in agreement listening to the Machine buzz in her ear. “She thinks it’s a setup.”

“How can Vigilance get set up for a crime they’re actually committing?” Shaw asked.

“Vigilance works in cells,” Reese said thoughtfully. “Each cell only knows what their orders are and not what any of the other groups are up to. It’s effective for keeping things secret, but also leaves a lot of room for miscommunication. One cell blows up a building, the whole group gets blamed.”

“And Decima has some way of getting orders down to each cell,” Shaw added, nodding.

Root held back her exasperated sigh. She knew that stopping Vigilance from setting off a bomb in the middle of the city was important, but Decima and Samaritan were the larger issue here. She took a breath and got ready to remind the other two of that but then snapped her mouth shut when the Machine started talking urgently in her head.

“Root?” Shaw was looking at her strangely and Root wondered what sort of expression she must have on her face.

“Greer is in the city,” she said, hesitantly. “Probably coming to meet the party from Washington.”

“That’s not really surprising,” Shaw said with a frown.

“Harold is with him.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Finch? You sure?” Shaw asked her.

“Is he okay?” Reese asked almost simultaneously.

Root waved them off, shutting her eyes, and trying to listen to what She was saying.

“She saw Greer in a car in Soho a few minutes ago. He rolled the window down on his car just enough that She got a glimpse of him and Finch in the backseat of the car.” Root opened her eyes and looked at Reese. “She didn’t see anything obviously wrong with him, but She didn’t get a good look.”

Reese’s jaw was clenched but he only nodded. “Did it track them? Does it know where they are now?”

Root shook her head. “She tried, but they’re very good at using the dead zones to lose Her and then switch vehicles. She tracked thirty-one cars that they might have been in but none have panned out.”

“Why the hell would they bring Finch out of hiding now?” Shaw wondered. She’d gotten over her surprise at Finch’s appearance and was back to focusing on the matter at hand. “He’s gotta be bait, right? For us?” She looked at Root as if hoping the Machine might know.

Root shrugged. “No clue. Maybe he’s our invitation to whatever little drama it is they’re about to play out.”

“Vigilance is going to blow up a building,” Reese said, his voice tight and angry now. “Are you telling me there’s a chance Finch ends up in that building?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Root conceded. She was worried about that too, but also concerned about Reese’s self-control. They last thing they needed was him storming off on a suicide mission.

“What I still don’t get is why blowing up a building has to coincide with this lot being in the city? Is it to make them feel threatened?” Shaw, at least, was still focused on business.

The Machine started talking urgently in Root’s ear.

“Oh.” Root almost smacked herself in the head. “Of course, I’d forgotten.” The others looked at her with obvious impatience. “When Collier was spilling his guts to me one of the things he said was the whole city would come to a halt and, uh, something about finding the corrupt heart of the government and making them stand trial for their crimes. It's possible he meant that last part literally, I mean Vigilance doesn't only kill people, they also try and leak data to the public, force confessions.”

“So they’re going to round up Control and her lot and try to force them to confess? And then blow them up?” Shaw shook her head. “That doesn’t get them anything. They need Garrison alive at the very least.”

“Maybe they’re getting Garrison out in time? She’s not sure about anything else,” Root said defensively. “The grandstanding would fit with what we’ve seen of Vigilance, though.”

“I guess we’re going to be picking up some packages from the post office then,” Reese said. He got up and started collecting weapons from various shelves in the library, his face set in hard, angry lines.

“You two will be,” Root agreed. “I have a date with Samaritan in New Jersey tonight.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Shaw freeze.

“You’re taking a bunch of code monkeys in to deal with Decima?”

Root considered lying, but she wasn’t sure if Shaw would be more reassured if she thought she had to babysit a bunch of civilians or not.

“It’ll only be me, Shaw. Well, me and Her.”

Shaw stalked over to stand in front of her chair, arms crossed.

“No way, Root. You do not get to bust down Decima’s front door solo.”

“Last time you came after me instead of helping Finch Decima captured him,” Root pointed out.

Shaw gritted her teeth and glared furiously at her.

“Shaw, I’ll be fine on my own,” Reese said from the other side of the room. “Go with Root.”

“Reese will need your help more than I will,” Root argued.

Shaw stormed away looking like she was on the verge of literally throwing her hands in the air before rounding on them both. “Both of you knock it off with the heroics. Reese, don’t you dare leave until we have this sorted out. Root, I want numbers. Now. What’re the odds looking like on all this?”

Root listened for Her response and then grinned. Little moments like this were why she loved working with Her. The way She could find a stray bit of data and thread it back into the larger picture was so satisfying.

“She has another option, actually. There’s someone else who can assist Reese, but he’s not going to like it much.” She tilted her head sideways and fixed Shaw with her grin. “You’re going to like it even less.”

“This sounds promising,” Reese said doubtfully.

“Just spit it out.” Shaw leaned back against a bookshelf, arms still crossed, scowl full-force.

“Hersh.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Reese said at last.

“Makes sense?” Shaw stared at him. “He killed me, Reese. Tried to kill you a bunch of times, too. And Root. Are we forgetting that?”

Reese shrugged, not looking bothered. “Either of us would have done the same in his position.”

Shaw didn’t seem to have a counter-argument and instead continued to look angry for a few more seconds before finally shrugging. “Okay, so why is Hersh suddenly going to play nice with us?”

“If our theory is right, Vigilance is going to come after Control and her group. But they’ll take them alive. Once Vigilance has Control, Hersh has a reason to play nice,” Root explained. “As long as Hersh isn't killed when Vigilance takes Control, he'll be focused on finding her. John’s a nice guy, I’m sure he and Hersh will talk through all their past problems in no time.”

Shaw snorted at that but at least she looked amused rather than angry now.

“What about Fusco?” Reese asked. They hadn't invited Fusco here because there’d been some big bust he’d needed to deal with down at the precinct.

“She’s telling me Fusco is going to be very busy tonight. She’s not completely sure what, but Vigilance is planning some sort of large city-wide distraction She thinks. The police are going to have their hands full all night.”

“Well, I guess we should all get moving then,” Reese said. He’d looked like he was on the verge of bolting out the door since she’d mentioned Finch.

“John, I don’t think you understand,” Root said slowly. “Samaritan is going to come online. Probably tonight if Decima has their way, but almost certainly no later than tomorrow. Greer wouldn't activate Vigilance’s end game unless he was sure.”

She saw that settle on him.

“So, this is it?” he asked.

Shaw was silent, frowning at the floor.

“We’ve been over the plan enough times now,” Root said. “We knew this was coming. After you leave the library today there’s no guarantee you can ever come back here.”

She didn’t let herself look around the room even though she was already missing the place that had been both a prison and a home to her.

“Make sure you’ve got everything out of here and take the packet I made you with your new identity in it. There’s a scheduled meet-up time for all of you in there as well. It’s written down. Do not enter it in any electronic device. We can’t be too careful now.”

“Nothing happened for so long and now it’s all at once,” Shaw murmured. She shook herself and regained focus. “What about Finch? If Reese rescues him…”

Root got up, walked over to a filing cabinet along the wall, and pulled a large manila envelope out which she walked over to Reese.

“This was the contingency plan in case everything went wrong. If you rescue Finch, I think you’ll find what you need in there. Oh! And...” She’d have forgotten if the Machine hadn’t reminded her. She grabbed a satellite phone off of the desk. The Machine had told her to get three of them earlier today though She hadn’t said why. She handed it over to Reese. “For later. She thinks we might need them.”

Reese took the phone without a word.

Shaw blew out a long slow breath. “Okay, so Reese is going Hersh hunting and Root and I are driving to New Jersey.” She chuckled. “Hell of a way to start the apocalypse.” She looked back over at Root. “Your guys finish with those servers or are they catching a ride with us?”

“We finished early this morning,” Root said heading back to the desk. She’d been pretty proud of what the team had pulled off. Whether it all worked or not though remained to be seen. “It’ll only be us. Girls’ road trip.”

Shaw looked back and forth between Reese and her one last time. “Guess we’re just wasting time now.”

Root saw her catch Reese’s eye for a second, and the two of them exchanged a terse nod.

“Take care of yourself, Lurch,” Root said with a wave. “And Harold.”

“You two keep each other safe,” he responded and turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Root was surprised at Shaw's outburst; she wasn't one for sentimental goodbyes. But instead of saying anything Shaw grabbed Bear's leash and clipped it to his collar when he jumped up, eager for a walk.

“We can't take him with us,” Shaw explained. “But he can watch your back.”

“Thanks,” Reese said taking the leash from her.

“Don't you dare get him hurt,” she added sternly.

Reese nodded and gave her his awkward half-smile; Shaw rubbed the back of her neck with one hand and turned away.

“Get out of here, Reese.”

After Reese and Bear departed, Shaw stood stiffly in the middle of the library, which now seemed quiet and empty.

“We need to make sure we clear out anything important in here,” Root told her as she got up out of her chair.

“I’ll grab the stuff from the safe,” Shaw agreed tonelessly. “Can you wipe down the machines?”

“She already took care of it,” Root pointed out gently.

“Right.” Shaw didn’t move.

“Sameen, we need to…”

Shaw jerked into motion. “Right. Let’s get to work.”

 

* * *

 

There was absolutely no way Shaw was going to let Root drive, though her inevitable victory felt hollow to her. Root was already settled in the passenger’s seat when she clambered up and started the engine.

“Where am I headed?” she asked, pulling on her seatbelt and adjusting the mirrors.

“Holland tunnel. She’ll give us more directions on the other side.” Root looked pretty rough, and Shaw wondered if she’d slept at all since the whole beta test.

“You should pass out until we’re there,” she suggested. "Can’t have you falling asleep on the job.”

Root shook her head. “I need to be able to talk to Her.”

“I’m sure she can wake you up if…”

“No.” Root’s tone did not allow for argument.

Shaw thought about pressing the issue, but didn’t when there was a slight static buzz over her comlink. Now why would the Machine think it so important to tell her to lay off now?

Of course. Shaw mentally kicked herself. The Machine might not be able to talk to them after Samaritan came online. Root had assured her that they’d put in place significant measures to make it safer for her to do so, but they wouldn’t know if that worked until after Samaritan was live, and even then there would always be some risk. This might be Root’s last chance to talk to her freely for a long time.

She wondered if she should ask if Root wanted to ride in the back with the servers, give her some privacy. She didn’t completely get what Root must be going through but she imagined it the way Root had described it to her earlier: silence. The bad sort of silence. The kind of silence she'd come home to as a kid when her mother was stuck at work and the house felt unnaturally empty, robbed of an inhabitant.

“Did you already get everything out of your apartment?” Root asked, shaking Shaw from her thoughts.

“Yeah, week ago. Put everything worth saving in the subway.” It hadn’t been much.

Root nodded absently, settling back into her seat and leaning her head against the window. It reminded Shaw of the day she’d come to rescue her from Control. It felt like a long time ago.

They drove in silence through the city and nothing was said until they were sitting in traffic outside the tunnel entrance.

“Do you have any regrets?” Root asked. She was drawing a pattern on the window with one finger.

“About what?”

“Anything, really. Or at least since you started working for the Machine with Harold.”

“Can't think of any.” Regrets weren't her thing. “Why, do you?”

Root turned away from the window and Shaw risked a quick glance at her since traffic was so slow. She was smiling, that full force smile that focused all her energy on the person it was aimed at.

“Only one.”

It took Shaw a second to realize Root was waiting for her to prompt her. She rolled her eyes but played along.

“Okay, what's that then?”

Root reached out one long finger and brushed a strand of hair off Shaw's check, tucking it behind her ear and leaned in to whisper.

“I never did get to try out that iron on you.”

Shaw actually burst out laughing at that. Fuckin’ Root. She always thought she knew what to expect from her but Root always managed to surprise her while still remaining completely true to form.

“Maybe after we're done saving the world from evil Robby the Robot you can give it another go.” At least Root seemed to be in a better mood now. “The Machine have any last minute updates I need to know about?”

Root tilted her head to one side. “She says to tell you thanks.”

“For what?” Driving a truck to New Jersey?

“She didn't say. I got the impression it was a thanks in advance though. Are you two planning things without me?” Root attempted to look like she was sulking and failed miserably.

It was strange how the mood was lighter now, almost normal. Root had been the one who'd been upset (and had good reason to be) and yet she'd been the one to break the tension. Like she'd been worried about Shaw’s mood more than her own.

“Haven't talked to her since the Vigilance thing.” Maybe that wasn't strictly true, but she didn't bring up the little bursts of static she knew were from the Machine.

“Well, I guess you must have unknowingly agreed to something She needs,” Root said, already losing interest. She produced a road map from somewhere and began marking it with a pen, which was odd considering she had world's best GPS in her ear.

It wasn't until they were halfway through the tunnel that it occurred to Shaw that she actually _had_ agreed to something, back when Root had been so fired up to go turn herself over to Decima, an offhand promise she’d made when the Machine had been buzzing static in her ear at the library.

Apparently the Machine thought that Shaw was now responsible for making sure Root didn't do anything stupid and get herself killed. Root, the most chaotic, unpredictable, determined person Shaw had ever worked with.

Shaw let out a resigned sigh.

“Everything okay?” Root asked, glancing up from her map.

“Just realizing how deep I dug myself in,” she said with a rueful smile. She didn't let herself think of the multiple implications of her words.

Root chuckled a little and focused back on her map. “We're all in this ditch together, Sameen.”

There was another of those brief bursts of static in her comlink. Shaw wasn't sure what it was supposed to convey or why the Machine felt the need to include her now.

She shook her head. Group bonding was _so_ not her thing.

Root gave her a few more directions after they cleared the tunnel and then settled back in her chair, undoubtedly listening to the Machine playing music or however that worked. They drove in silence, but that was okay; this was the good kind of silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sunday's update will be the equivalent of the season 3 finale and currently stands at just short of 10k words (!!!). After that the next chapter is...uh...an intermission I guess? And then onward.


	13. Season 3 Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 9.9k words. The fact I couldn't justify another 100 words will haunt me to the end of my days.

 

The sun was setting when Reese made his way to the hotel Root had texted him the address of. He’d spent the last few hours tying up all his loose ends (getting the last few things out of his apartment, filling in Fusco, scouting out the post office that was Vigilance’s target), and now there was nothing left but waiting for all the players to enter the game.

He had Bear with him still which meant he couldn’t easily stroll into the hotel without raising some questions, so instead he attempted to find somewhere to loiter inconspicuously that had a good view of the entrance. The problem was that the first thing he noticed was a car with government plates parked nearby. If someone from the ISA was in there they might recognize him.

He cursed under his breath and retreated a little further down the block, trying to find somewhere to stand that gave him a clear view but also shielded him. He tried to raise Root over comlink.

“Root, you there?”

“Vigilance isn’t there yet, but Hersh is in one of the cars outside,” Root replied by way of greeting. At first he’d found her ability to just _know_ everything creepy, but it was really damn useful.

“Thought he might be.” He glanced back at the car, but it had tinted windows so there was no way of being sure that was the one.

“She says to stay where you are for now.”

He assumed she meant the Machine and not Shaw in this case. He could hear the sound of an engine in the background on Root’s side.

“Where are you two at now?” he asked.

“The middle of nowhere,” Root said. “We’re getting close, though.” She sounded somewhere between eager and nervous.

A small child detached himself from his mother as they were walking past Reese and flung himself at Bear. Reese cringed and reached down to intervene, but Bear looked like he was enjoying the attention, panting happily as the small boy clung to him. The mother came over and pulled her child away with an apology and Reese smiled politely at her.

He patted Bear’s head after the child had been removed. The dog was probably the most well-suited to dealing with sudden hugs from children out of the whole team. Reese always got awkward with stuff like that, and Shaw might have a soft spot for kids, but she also didn’t know how to deal with them. As for Root, well, it was probably best to keep Root away from children. Nothing good could come of that. Fusco would probably handle it well though, Reese mused as he scratched behind Bear's ears.

“John, stop fawning over the dog and pay attention. Vigilance is incoming.” Root’s words snapped him back to reality. Sure enough there was a group of people moving towards the hotel entrance from the other end of the street, and even at this distance he could tell they were carrying concealed.

He tuned out the background noise of Root telling Shaw that this was _not_ an appropriate time to ask for a full update on Bear’s health and instead focused on the car he thought Hersh was in. Would he notice?

The Vigilance team entered the building but there was no noticeable change in anything else going on outside. Maybe Hersh was playing tetris on his phone or something. Or maybe he wasn't expecting trouble.

“Should I go after them?” Reese asked. “They’re heavily armed. What if they just shoot them all?”

“They won’t.” Root sounded confident. “Well, not all of them anyway.”

“If they open fire in a hotel…”

“If you go in now and stop them then they don’t lead us to Greer. And Finch.”

Reese sighed in frustration but held his ground. An unbearably long ten minutes dragged by with nothing to do but watch the comings and goings of people in front of the hotel and occasionally pat Bear’s head. He was glad he had the dog there with him.

He was in the middle of ruffling Bear’s fur for the fifth time when everything went dark. All the buildings, the street lights, the traffic lights, they all went out. The only remaining light came from car headlights.

“Root? What the hell happened?” He headed towards the hotel entrance.

“Massive power failure, city-wide. A lot like the one back in 2003, but this one was caused by some sort of electronic attack. A virus.”

The government car’s back door swung open and Hersh barreled out, headed towards the hotel entrance. Reese turned away, putting his head down to try and avoid being spotted, but Hersh didn’t even glance around.

“We’re probably going to lose contact soon,” Root continued, not sounding overly concerned. “Hope you brought that phone with you.”

It was shoved in his pocket.

“I’ve got it. But right now I need to get in there and make sure this doesn’t turn into a bloodbath.”

“Vigilance already has them and Hersh chose the wrong stairwell so he’s going to miss them. You can probably go in after him now, just make sure he doesn’t shoot you by accident. Or on purpose.” She sounded entirely too cheerful.

“And if I run into Vigilance?”

“Well, technically you only need enough of them alive to lead you to Greer so feel free kill any surplus.” There was a pause and then Root cleared her throat. “I’ve been told to tell you that you should actually _avoid_ killing them because “that’s not how we do things”, but you’re probably okay to shoot them in the kneecaps.” Her imitation of Shaw’s voice left much to be desired.

Reese shook his head and headed in the front door, Bear trotting at his heels. The front lobby had small crowds of people milling about in confusion, but no sign of Hersh. Reese gambled and took the first stairwell he found and hurried up towards the fifteenth floor which was where Root had told him the room they were meeting in was. The bullet wound in his side throbbed as he climbed.

He pulled his gun out when he reached the door to the hallway and listened. He couldn’t hear anything, but hotel hallways were usually carpeted so that didn’t mean much.

He took a deep breath and shoved the door open with his shoulder, aiming into the hall with his gun, Bear by his side. Someone further down the hall spun around and was aiming a gun right back at him.

“Hello, Hersh,” Reese said, calmly. “How’ve you been?”

 

* * *

 

“We lost him,” Root said, shifting in her seat. She’d been sitting still for too long. “He’s on his own unless he calls us on the sat phone.” She wasn’t going to call him back right now when he could be in a dangerous situation.

“Reese’ll be fine,” Shaw said, unconcerned. “He’s good at this sort of thing.”

“Hopefully Hersh agrees with your sentiment.”

She’d only met Hersh very briefly (the time when she'd shot him didn't really count) and her impression of him had been that he was efficient, obedient, and had absolutely no sense of humor. She glanced back up when the Machine alerted her they were getting close.

“Pull over right up there.”

They parked on the side of a road overlooking a very large, nondescript flat building that could have been a warehouse or, well, just about anything else. So generic as to escape comment. Root opened the door and hopped down to the ground, heading around the back of the truck.

“So, that’s it?” Shaw asked as she joined her at the rear of the truck.

Root opened the truck doors and looked up at the servers they’d spent so much time working on. Everything they’d done these last months was to get these machines ready and to this place on this day.

“That building is one of Samaritan’s facilities,” Root said. The Machine was fairly quiet now and she wondered if She could be apprehensive. If the odds of something very bad happening were irrefutable did the Machine still rerun them anyway? Did She run them faster and more often? Maybe that’s what apprehension was for Her.

“Root?” Shaw elbowed her.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else.” She stepped away from the truck and looked down at the facility. Now that they were here she felt the urge to stall, as if that would somehow delay the inevitable.

“How’re we getting these things inside?” Shaw asked leaning back against the truck.

“We’re driving in. There’s a delivery bay around the other side,” Root responded. The Machine was playing soft, almost melancholy music now.

“So what’re we waiting for? An invitation?”

Root smiled and turned back to the truck, walking over to stand right in front of Shaw. With the truck doors open she could put a hand on either side of Shaw on the floor of the truck bed and trap her there. Shaw frowned and tried to push off the truck but Root pressed up against her, holding her in place.

“Maybe I wanted a little one on one time before our heroic last stand,” she said, dipping her head to talk directly in Shaw’s ear.

“We’re right outside a Decima facility, is this really the time?” Shaw didn’t sound too upset though and she wasn’t trying to get away.

The trouble was that she was right. Root knew, and as much as getting it on right outside a Decima facility in a truck full of high-tech computer servers sounded hot as hell, there probably wasn’t enough time.

That didn’t stop her from kissing Shaw though, pressing her back into the edge of the truck bed hard enough that she gave a slight grunt. Shaw’s hands came up and tangled in her hair, tugging just hard enough to hurt a little. Root responded by breaking off the kiss and catching Shaw’s lower lip between her teeth, biting down and pulling a satisfied noise from Shaw.

Shaw’s lower lip was bloody when Root finally let it go.

“You really got a thing for biting, don’t you?” Shaw asked, running her tongue over her bleeding lip with a grin.

Root scrunched her nose as she smiled back. “It's good that you’ve got a thing for me biting you, then.”

Shaw rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree. She untangled her hands from Root’s hair and dropped them back to her sides. “What’re we doing here, Root? Don’t we have a job to take care of?”

Root closed her eyes and nodded. She didn’t want to think about what came next, about how she might not have the Machine there to wake her up in the morning, help her fall asleep at night, and play soothing music when nightmares woke her up. About how she might not be able to be this close to Shaw again without putting them both in danger.

She leaned forward and rested her forehead on Shaw’s shoulder, trying to steal a quiet moment before the storm. She’d thought Shaw would be uncomfortable and try to wriggle away so it was a surprise when Shaw’s hands came up to slide around her waist, a little stiffly, but definitely purposefully. They stayed like that, just breathing together, until Root felt Shaw shift restlessly and straightened up, releasing her.

“Sorry,” she said, turning away to look back down at the facility, trying to pretend she was surveying the grounds.

Shaw only came over to stand next to her, ignoring the apology.

“You’re going to need to stay in the back of the truck with the servers until we get inside,” Root told her, dragging her mind back to the mission details.

“What? Why?” Shaw sounded offended by the idea.

“They’re only expecting a single person delivering each load of servers,” Root explained. “And if anyone asks any questions when I’m driving in…”

“The Machine can give you the answers,” Shaw said, nodding. “Fine. But you’d better let me out as soon as we’re in.” She let out a long breath. “You ready to do this?”

Root gave herself a long second to take in Shaw, her eyes lit up with excitement, her lower lip swollen and bloody, her whole body coiled like a spring. She wished that the Machine could actually see through her eyes, could snapshot this moment and save it forever.

She looked away and refocused her mind again. They were about to break into one of Decima’s secure facilities and attempt to cripple Samaritan before it even got online. This was the sort of thing she lived for. She felt the slight thrill of excitement rising in her, ready for the work ahead of them.

“Let’s go meet Samaritan.”

 

* * *

 

“You.” Hersh’s face didn’t give away anything, but his tone was clear enough.

“Yeah, me. I get to go to all the fun parties.” Reese could see that Bear was on guard next to him, waiting for an order. Of course if Bear got hurt trying to take down Hersh, Shaw would teleport from New Jersey and murder both of them. He decided to try a gentler approach.

“Listen, Hersh, I’m not here for Control. Vigilance are the ones who knocked the power out and abducted all your buddies.”

Hersh redoubled his grip on his gun. “Why would I believe that?”

“Because I’m a really stand-up, honest citizen trying to do my civic duty?” Reese suggested with a hopeful half-smile.

Hersh didn’t seem to find this amusing at all.

“Or because I have absolutely nothing to gain from harming Control,” Reese said. “After all we’re helping her. Sort of. The Machine is anyway. Didn’t she give you orders about us or something? Anything?”

Hersh glared at him for a second and then said, “We’re supposed to attempt to detain you, but I have permission to kill all of you at my own discretion.”

Reese sighed. “I guess that’s something, anyway. Listen, right now Vigilance is getting further and further away from us, but I know where they’ll be. So if you want Control back, you need me alive.”

Hersh’s eyes narrowed as he considered this. “And what’s in all this for you then?”

“You know Decima? I’ve got a suspicion that they’re going to be wherever Vigilance ends up tonight, and they’ve got a friend of mine. I want my friend back, you want Control back. We help each other and everyone wins.”

Time to take a leap of faith and hope he’d read Hersh correctly. He lowered his gun.

Hersh didn’t move for a moment and then lowered his as well.

“We should move then,” he said, carefully walking towards Reese. “Where are we headed?”

“I’d rather not say since then you’d have no reason not to shoot me in the back.” He holstered his gun despite his instincts telling him to keep it out.

Hersh nodded. “That’s smart of you. I probably would.”

Well, at least he was honest.

They started back down the stairs, a little awkwardly since neither wanted to let the other walk behind him, Bear bounding ahead.

“How’s Shaw doing?” Hersh asked as they rounded a landing.

Reese raised an eyebrow at him, confused. “A lot better than the time you killed her.”

Hersh waved that away. “Those were my orders. I always liked Shaw. She got things done. Where is she anyway?”

“Taking care of some business elsewhere.”

Hersh nodded to himself as if that had somehow answered all his questions. “I like your dog,” was all he said.

“Yeah, well, Shaw likes him a lot more so don’t even think about touching him or she’ll show up and do a lot worse than drug you.”

“Shaw has a dog?” The surprised tone sounded odd coming from Hersh.

“He’s sort of the group dog, but yeah, I’d say he’s more or less hers at the moment.” How had he ended up in a stairwell in the middle of a blackout talking to Hersh about dogs?

The corner of Hersh’s mouth twitched in a twisted expression that Reese thought might resemble a smile in some alternate dimension.

“Good.”

“I’ll let her know you said so,” Reese managed to answer. This conversation had gone beyond his threshold for weird.

He wondered what Hersh would think about Shaw’s other acquisition: an assassin/hacker with an AI in her ear and a chaotic streak a mile wild.

He decided never to bring it up.

 

* * *

 

Shaw rubbed at the inside of her wrist irritably. She’d been pretty impressed when Root had actually sliced the RFID chips out of the unconscious guards’s arms (that was her sort of crazy and made a lot more sense than trying to force a guard at gunpoint to get them through), but she didn’t like having the damn thing in her arm.

“Only four more,” Root said, walking through the vast maze of servers towards her. “So far, so good.”

“Everything working then?” Shaw asked as they headed back towards the huge warehouse storage room that they’d parked the truck in to unload it. The servers were large enough that they could only bring one through at a time.

“I think so. We won’t know for sure until Samaritan switches on.” Root had been quite enthusiastic while they'd been taking down the security guards and slicing their arms open but since they’d started setting up the servers she’d been all business.

“Are we going to wait around here for that?”

“Not unless you have a deathwish.” Root scanned her wrist to open the security check-point door.

“So what if they don’t work then?” These felt like questions she should have asked before, but they hadn’t occurred to her until she was standing here. Maybe some part of her hadn’t believed that all this was really happening until now.

They entered the storage room and headed towards the truck.

“We’ll probably end up dead within a week,” Root said with a tight smile. She pulled herself up into the back of the truck.

“Is that what the safety days are for?” Shaw pulled herself up after.

Root had insisted they all go completely off the grid for a full forty-eight hours after Samaritan came online before going on to their new identities. Shaw wasn’t looking forward to having to hide again, but it sounded better than what would come next.

“Not really. They're to give the Machine a chance to figure out what Her situation is. If She can get a read on the things before we go back out, it could save our lives.” Root was looking at the last few servers with a frown.

“Think it’d be safe to try calling Reese now?” Shaw asked. She wasn’t worried about him, but it had been a while and she wanted to know how things had gone with Hersh.

“Probably, but make it quick.” Root was fussing with something on the back of one of the servers.

Reese answered almost immediately.

“Root?”

“Sorry, Reese, wrong undercover asshole.”

She heard Root laugh from the back of the truck.

“Shaw, how’re you two doing?” Reese sounded pretty calm so she figured she’d chosen a good time.

“We’re on track here, how’re things there? You find Hersh?”

“We’re taking a lovely stroll through the city together,” Reese said with a hint of a smile in his voice. “He likes your dog, by the way.”

“If he even touches Bear I will break every bone in his body,” Shaw snapped.

“Oh, I told him that. He just thinks it’s adorable that you have a dog now.”

She heard Hersh’s voice in the background and while she couldn’t make out the words he sounded offended.

“It’s not...you know what? Fuck Hersh. What’s your status?” She and Bear were badass partners in crime. There was nothing adorable about them at all.

“We’re on our way to...the location we know Vigilance is targeting. Hersh hasn’t tried to kill me yet either. I think I’m really growing on him.”

This prompted more annoyed sounds from Hersh in the background.

“We need to move,” Root said, coming back to stand next to her and rest a hand on her shoulder.

Shaw nodded. “Gotta run, Reese. Some of us have a world to save here. Have fun playing footsie with Hersh or whatever the fuck is going on over there.”

Reese only chuckled. “Later, Shaw.”

Root gave her a questioning look. “John and Hersh are getting along well, then?”

“Apparently. Who would have thought?” Well, it probably wouldn’t be the last time Reese’s weird charisma surprised her.

Root rubbed her shoulder once and then released her. “Ready for another round?” she asked with a suggestive smile.

Only Root would try to make wheeling server racks around sound risqué.

“Yeah, let’s hurry this up and get the hell out of here.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you know what that meeting was about? Control and the others, I mean,” Reese asked Hersh as they navigated the dark streets.

“Not my job to know,” Hersh said shortly.

“Even if it could put your boss in danger?” Walking this far was taking way too long, but there wasn’t much in the way of reliable transportation at the moment. All the traffic was gridlocked from the lack of traffic lights.

“What’re you getting at?” Hersh asked. He was probably still annoyed that Reese had teased him for helping some little old lady pick up the purse she’d dropped in the dark. Of course Reese had been seconds from doing the same, but hearing Hersh called ‘a nice young lad’ had made his day.

“That time you almost shot Shaw and Finch they were trying to find the tapes that contained code for an Artificial Intelligence called Samaritan. But Decima got their hands on it instead.” Hersh was someone who appreciated straight-forward things, so Reese figured it was worth a shot to tell him what was really going on.

“I know that. So what?” Hersh absent-mindedly hit the pedestrian crossing button at the intersection and then frowned, realizing his mistake.

Reese shook his head sadly. Who actually hit crosswalk buttons on a side street in New York? The only rule of crossing a street in the city was don’t get hit.

“Decima is trying to sell your boss on using Samaritan to replace the Machine.”

Hersh looked unimpressed. “I’ll ask again: so what?”

“Samaritan isn’t what she thinks it is. The Machine and Samaritan are both--” He tried to dredge up all the technical terminology Root had used in the long anti-Samaritan rant she’d gone on one night while they were waiting for Shaw to get back with the take-out food. “--strong AIs. Which I think means they’re both AIs that aren’t built for a single task. Like Siri is a, uh, narrow AI.” He understood the concept of this.

“What does Siri have to do with anything? She can’t answer half my questions.” Hersh sounded bitter.

Reese lost his train of thought for a second. Putting aside the mental image of Hersh trying to use Siri, it had never occurred to him that quite a few people referred to Siri, a relatively uncomplicated phone application, as ‘her’ and yet everyone but Root (and lately Shaw) called the Machine ‘it’. It was something to think about, anyway.

“Uh, nothing. Forget Siri. The point is that the Machine and Samaritan as sentient AIs have a lot of capability for destruction. If the Machine didn’t have the safeguards that Finch built in, it might be inclined to take over the world. Kill everyone or restructure society.”

Root had gone on a lot about AIs and the probability for a truly sentient and unfettered AI to not have humanity’s best interests at heart. She’d said that the worst case scenario was the AI trying to homogenize the human race to eliminate as much strife and diversity as possible and promote whatever traits it thought were desirable. She’d painted a fairly horrifying picture of what that sort of world might look like.

When he’d asked her why she’d wanted to free the Machine then, she’d just shrugged and said she figured if it went wrong it was more likely to try and wipe out humanity than anything else and had wanted to see what would happen.

Sometimes she terrified him.

But she had gone on to say that she didn’t think the Machine was likely to do that anymore. That it had actually accepted Finch’s moral code for it for reasons beyond that fact that it had to. Which had made him wonder again about the Machine’s willingness to let people die to protect its assets. That wasn’t really in line with a megalomaniac evil AI though; it was a surprisingly human reaction.

“This sounds like a lot of science fiction,” Hersh said doubtfully. “And also above my pay-grade.”

“Okay, let me put it another way. If Samaritan comes online it won’t have the country’s best interests at heart. Or humanity’s. You can’t take something that has absolutely no reason to want to help people and expect it to do just that. Especially not when it’s that powerful.” Root’s explanation had been a bit too theoretical for him as well.

“And once again I’m brought back around to why should I believe you?”

“Well, do you trust Decima?”

Hersh looked uncomfortable. “That’s not my call.”

“Then take what I just told you to your boss. She’s getting in bed with the wrong people.”

Hersh frowned. “I’ll think about it.”

 

* * *

 

“That’s the last of them,” Root said, giving the final server a fond pat. She looked back over her shoulder at Shaw. “Ready to get out of here?”

Shaw was looking around the room, taking in the enormity of what was only one of Samaritan’s many facilities. “Don’t suppose blowing this place up if your servers don’t work would help any.”

Root shook her head. “They’d rebuild it.”

Shaw nodded glumly. “How’re we ever going to destroy something like this then?”

Root came over to her and straightened out Shaw’s stolen security jacket. It was a bit too large for her though that only made it cuter on her. “We’ll have to fight it on its own battlefield.”

“You mean online. Like electronic warfare.” Shaw made a face. “How am I supposed to help with something like that?”

Root could sense her frustration. Plugging a bunch of servers in wasn’t Shaw’s type of fight. She probably wished she’d stayed with Reese afterall.

“I think there’ll still be plenty of people to shoot,” Root said and then tugged lightly on Shaw’s sleeve. “We need to move now, though. She says it’s about to get interesting.”

Shaw’s eyes widened. “Samaritan?”

“No, but I think someone discovered the unconscious guards we stuffed in that closet.” Root started moving towards the exit, pulling Shaw behind her by her sleeve.

“Finally some action,” Shaw muttered, pulling her sleeve free and getting her gun out.

“Try not to shoot any of the servers,” Root told her. “The last thing we need is for someone to start poking around at the machines in here.”

“Let’s go then,” Shaw said, pushing past her as if she hadn’t been the one stalling a minute ago.

They didn’t run into any resistance until they were almost back to the storage room. Root stopped them around the corner from the hall leading to the bay door. The Machine was updating her on everything that lay ahead.

“One guard in the hall, weapon drawn,” she said quietly to Shaw. “Do you have a silencer?”

Shaw nodded and pulled one out from under her coat, attaching it to the end of her gun. She moved past Root and rounded the corner firing off two muffled shots. Root joined her to see the guard crumpled on the floor, kneecaps shot out.

“There’s a lot more inside,” she said, still keeping her voice low. “She can see five.” She held her arm out and used it to indicate the locations the Machine was relating to her. “I’ll go after the two on the left, you get the three on the right?”

Shaw had taken her silencer back off. “Why do I only get three?”

Root gave her a tolerant smile before heading towards the door. “Ready?”

At Shaw’s nod, Root shoved open the door, already firing random shots into the room to provide cover until they got inside. She ducked to the left behind a stack of crates and Shaw went right, one of her targets already down on the ground. Root smiled to herself. It was always such a pleasure to watch Shaw work.

One of her targets had ducked behind some crates in the far corner of the room and the other one was standing behind the truck. She could see his legs under it from where she was crouched down. She popped out from behind her cover, staying low to the ground, and aimed a shot under the truck. There was a yelp and she saw the guard hit the floor.

She ducked back into cover with a smile of satisfaction. The guard was probably still conscious and armed so they couldn’t discount him, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Time to deal with the other one.

She risked another glance around her cover and then jerked back at the Machine’s warning trill. A bullet slammed into the crates right where she’d been. A thrill of adrenaline spiked through her as she realized how close she’d come to getting shot.

When she checked on Shaw she was also down to one guard left to take care of. She looked like she was enjoying herself finally.

“Just let me know when,” she whispered to the Machine.

She couldn’t explain exactly how a single note from Her could tell her exactly where to aim, but it was so easy to interpret now that almost no translation time was necessary, like being fluent enough in a language to start thinking in it. When the Machine prompted her she was ready and swung around the crates firing two shots that took the guard in the arm and leg.

A familiar melody from the Machine let her know that Shaw had come over behind her and she turned around to greet her, moving back into cover.

“You having more fun now?” she asked.

Shaw’s eyes were lit up with energy and life now. “Definitely.”

“The one behind the truck may still be dangerous,” Root said. “He’s got a bullet in his calf but I don’t think that’s enough to count him out.”

“That was sloppy of you,” Shaw said with a nasty smirk. “I took down three guys and you only got one and a half.”

Root wanted to push her up against the crates and kiss the smugness off of her, ride the high of the fight into something even more fun, but unfortunately they were still deep in enemy territory.

“Let’s go clean up my mess then,” was all she said.

When they carefully made their way around the truck they found that the guard had already dropped his gun and was trying to put pressure on his wound. Shaw knocked him out but then wrapped his coat tightly around the wound as an afterthought.

“What?” she asked when she saw Root looking at her.

“Nothing, we need to move, though. There’s more coming.” One of the guards had radioed for backup. “And we can’t take the truck. They’ve blocked off the road in.”

“How the hell do we get out of here then?” Shaw scooped up the fallen guard’s gun and tucked it in a pocket.

“She’s saying we should try and sneak around the other side of the building. There’s a hole in the fence we can get under without dealing with the guard checkpoints. There’s also another parking lot on the other side. You up for some grand theft auto?”

Shaw flashed her a crooked grin and jogged across the room to recover the other guns. Root used the time to grab the duffel bag she’d left in the front of the truck they’d driven. It had a couple changes of clothes for both of them, a laptop, and a few more supplies.

Shaw returned with two more guns, one of which she handed over to Root.

“After you, babe,” Root said motioning at the door that led back outside.

“Babe?” Shaw made a face.

“Not babe? How about sweetheart?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I think I liked babe better.”

She pushed the door open and moved out, leading with her gun up and ready. There were no gunshots and after a second she jerked her head to indicate Root should follow her.

The cold air hit Root like a slap in the face and she shivered. Off to their right she could see a lot of activity near the road they’d come in from, but it was far enough away that they were safe for the moment.

“This way,” she said, heading in the opposite direction and staying close to the side of the building.

They made it all the way to the far end of the building and were heading out onto the darkened grass lawn between the building and the fence when the Machine warned her they’d been spotted.

“They’ve seen us,” Root hissed to Shaw grabbing her by the arm and hurrying towards the fence. Everything in front of them was almost pitch black now that they were away from the lights of the building.

By the time they reached the fence and found the hole in it she could hear the guards behind them. They were still by the building but they were catching up fast.

“Go,” she told Shaw, motioning at the fence.

“You first.”

Root suppressed her exasperation. “Our night vision hasn’t adjusted yet, but I don’t need to be able to see to shoot.”

Shaw glanced once at the guards and then ducked down and crawled through the fence without further argument. Root used the opportunity to take out two of the approaching guards, the Machine’s help making it satisfyingly simple.

When the guards started returning fire, shooting blindly into the dark, she tossed the duffel bag through the fence and dropped down to crawl through after Shaw. Something stung her shoulder blade and she lost her balance in surprise, getting a face full of dirt.

Shaw grabbed her and basically dragged her through the fence.

“Just a graze I think,” Root said as she pulled herself up. It barely hurt but that was probably due to the adrenaline.

Shaw’s eyes were a bit too wide but she only nodded, grabbed the duffel bag off the ground, and tugged Root after her, both of them breaking into a run across the grass. A chain link fence wasn’t much help against bullets.

They got to the parking lot without further issue though Root could feel blood running down her back, soaking into her shirt.

“That one,” Root said, pointing at a black SUV. “She says there’s a spare key in the glove compartment.”

Shaw looked disgusted. “What sort of idiot keeps a key in the glove compartment? That makes no sense.”

“I’m sure She could tell us the whole story later, but for now…” Root smashed the passenger side window with her gun and reached through to claim the key. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on driving this time, sweetie. She’s going to need to give me directions really quickly if anyone’s chasing us.”

Shaw didn’t look pleased but opened the passenger’s door and brushed the glass off the seat without comment.

“You okay?” she asked once they were out of the main road.

“The bullet just grazed me I think.” It was starting to hurt quite badly now but she’d been shot enough to know there wasn’t a bullet lodged in her.

“I thought…” Shaw broke off and turned around to look out the rear window instead. “I don’t see anyone behind us.”

Root glanced over at her, seeing how stiffly she was sitting, her hands curled into fists on her knees.

“They’re following us but we’ve got a pretty big lead,” she said, unsure what had made Shaw so tense.

“Good.” Shaw reached over and shoved her forward a little by the shoulder which caused a white-hot spike of pain to run through her. The SUV swerved slightly before she got the pain back under control.

“That’s a lot of blood. You sure you’re okay to drive?” Shaw had mercifully released her but was still trying to peer at the damage in the dark car.

“I’m fine, Sameen. You can poke at it later. Right now we need to keep moving.”

Shaw settled back into her seat. “Better not pass out and get us killed.”

Root chuckled. “I don’t think that’s likely. I think the worst is behind us.”

 

* * *

 

“Why didn’t you mention there was a bomb in the basement before this?” Hersh asked irritably.

“I was getting around to it,” Reese said with his most winning smile.

Bear bounded ahead of him, running towards the back of a van parked in the lot by the post office. Reese and Hersh exchanged a glance and hurried after the dog. Reese pulled the doors open at Hersh’s nod and they both trained their guns on the inside.

There were two dead men inside that Reese figured were probably Vigilance. There was also a tv that seemed to be broadcasting a room full of people. He took a minute to sort out what he was seeing: there were a bunch of scared looking people all shoved into seats arranged to look almost like a jury booth, a man he’d never seen before who was in a yelling match with some _other_ man he’d never seen before, and a couple more Vigilance members wearing masks were loitering in the back.

Then the camera panned to the right a little and Reese felt a shock like a jolt of electricity running through his whole body. There, seated at a long table between Greer and Control, was Finch. Reese stood there staring at the screen, unable to look away. How many months had it been since he’d seen his friend? And now he was so close.

Hersh smacked him on the arm. “Will you snap out of it and listen to me?”

Reese shook himself. “Yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Whoever that Vigilance guy in charge is he’s completely lost control of the situation.”

It was true. There appeared to be a lot of yelling and arm waving going on and the leader was nervously clutching his gun and trying to watch everyone at once. At the long table Greer was smiling ever so slightly.

“So the bomb. The one in the basement. Maybe we should go deal with that before everyone dies?” Hersh sounded like he was ready to smack him upside the head.

“Right.” He made himself look away and return to the task at hand. “Let’s find a way in.”

“Wonder who killed those guys,” Hersh muttered as they moved in closer to the building.

“Decima. Vigilance is funding them.”

Hersh turned to glare at him. “Why the hell would they do that?”

“If you wanted to make sure the government was sufficiently pressured into handing over their feeds to a sketchy international organization what better way to put that pressure on them than with a credible terrorist threat right in the middle of Manhattan?”

Hersh shook his head. “I really hope half the stuff you’ve told me is bullshit or we’re all in a lot more trouble than I expected.” He sighed. “Any more bombshells you want to drop on me before we go in there?”

Reese couldn’t stop himself. “Shaw has a girlfriend.” Okay, so technically that wasn't exactly true, but close enough. He imagined Shaw rolling her eyes all the way from New Jersey.

Hersh stopped and straightened up, his entire demeanor lightening. “Oh, really? That’s so nice. I’m happy for her.” He turned back towards the building without another word leaving Reese slightly bemused behind him

Reese gave up on trying to ever understand Hersh. He knew that he’d kill all of them (including Shaw) if he was ordered to do so, and yet he seemed almost fond of Shaw, like she was a favorite niece. A niece who he’d trained to be a highly dangerous government operative and then attempted to kill.

Oh well.

When he caught up with Hersh he found him standing over the body of another Vigilance member near a door.

“Someone is leaving a trail of corpses for us,” Hersh grunted.

“Think I’d prefer breadcrumbs.”

Hersh pushed the door open cautiously, scanning the inside before moving in. Reese followed him with Bear and found himself in a dark hallway.

“Any idea where the stairs down are?” Hersh asked in a whisper.

“Not a clue.” He was really missing being able to get Root on the comlink right now. He hoped they were doing okay with their mission.

“Guess we’re on a scavenger hunt then.”

They got lucky and found the stairs down in the third hall they came to. Everyone in the basement was dead as well.

“Maybe you believe me now?” Reese asked, shoving one of the corpses with the toe of his shoe. Bear sniffed the corpse in a disinterested way.

“There’s no reason for me to assume Decima is behind this, but something suspicious is definitely going on. Maybe your lot set it up for all I know.”

Reese looked at him incredulously. “My lot is stretched so thin that they sent me to find you for backup. That’s how desperate we are.”

Hersh nodded. “You’re right, that’s pretty sad.”

Reese just shook his head and moved further in, following the cables running along the floor. Sure enough, in the side room was a bomb large enough to blow up the entire building and then some.

“Wired to go off when the power switches back on,” Hersh said grimly. “Don’t suppose you know when that would be?”

Reese shrugged. “We didn’t knock the power out. I have no clue. Root said it was some sort of electronic sabotage, a virus or something.”

“Well staring at it isn’t going to help. Let’s get to work. When’s the last time you defused a bomb?”

“Had to take one off a kid strapped with explosives not that long ago.” That had been one of the first numbers he and Shaw had worked without Finch and it had almost gone very wrong.

“You’re up then, been awhile for me.”

Reese nodded already lost in looking over the wiring and constructing how it all worked in his mind. He only nodded in thanks when Hersh handed him a pair of wire-cutters a few minutes later.

Disarming the bomb took much longer than he would have liked and he almost messed the whole thing up when a shot fired off loudly behind him. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw Hersh aiming his gun out the door. There was a new corpse on the floor outside the door. Bear was growling in a menacing way, standing just behind Hersh.

“Vigilance?” Reese asked.

Hersh shook his head. “Never seen someone from Vigilance in a suit. Keep working.”

“It’s Decima, you know,” Reese said turning back to his work. Two wires to go.

“Doubt there’ll be any way to prove it if they are.” Hersh sounded angry now. “Their guys are all trained to be disposable and erasable. There won’t be anything to tie them back.”

Reese clipped another wire. One more to go. Hopefully he’d done this right. Hersh was firing again behind him and he heard the sound of Bear attacking someone.

He clipped the final wire and then sat back on his heels with a breath of relief. He only allowed himself a second before taking out his gun and joining Hersh in the doorway to take out the last two men.

Bear came trotting back over looking pleased with himself.

“Dog may have saved my life,” Hersh said giving Bear a stiff pat.

“Yeah, well, maybe don’t try to kill his owner again.”

Hersh sniffed indignantly and moved over to examine the corpses.

“We good?” he asked as he searched through the dead men’s pockets.

“The bomb is as safe as it possibly can be.”

Hersh straightened up. “We’ll have someone clean it up after this.” He motioned at the corpses. “Nothing on any of them except some spare clips.”

When they made their way back upstairs there was a lot more noise coming from somewhere deeper inside the building.

“Sounds like the police,” Hersh said. “Let’s head around the side so they don’t get over-zealous and shoot us.”

“I’m not planning on running into a room of armed cops,” Reese agreed.

When they emerged from the same door they’d gone in originally there were sirens and flashing lights coming from out on the street on the other side of the building.

“Over there.” Hersh pointed across the parking lot at a group of figures moving away. He took off at a jog without waiting for Reese.

Reese followed only a little slower, keeping his gun up and aimed the whole time. He had a bad feeling about this. When he reached the group he felt his heart speed up. There was Finch, standing in front of him as if he hadn’t been gone for such a very long time. He looked a little thinner maybe, paler, and the dark circles under his eyes were quite noticeable. But he was okay.

The only problem was that besides Finch the group also contained Control, Greer, some other official types Reese didn’t recognize, and two armed Decima agents who had guns pointed at him. One of them he recognized as Jeremy Lambert, that slimy asshole Decima had used as a messenger before. Good thing he had his gun trained squarely on Greer. Of course Hersh was now pointing his gun at him so it was kind of a stalemate. Bear whined next to him, unsure of what to do.

“I just want Finch,” Reese said calmly. “No one needs to get shot here.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making bargains,” Greer said. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Reese tensed, more than ready to put a bullet in Greer’s head. If he’d been sure he could still get Finch out alive he’d have done it.

“Ma’am,” Hersh said from next to him.

Reese saw Control look over next to him where Hersh was standing. Something he couldn’t read passed through her eyes and then she nodded.

“He's useless to us now anyway. Take him and go.”

Greer looked like he might object, but then swallowed whatever he was going to say and only smiled coldly at Reese.

Finch stumbled away from the group, never looking up from the ground. Reese grabbed his arm with the hand he wasn’t using for his gun and backed away into the dark parking lot pulling him after, Bear darting ahead of them. Reese caught Hersh’s eye as he backed up.

“Remember what I said,” he called as quietly as he could. It was as much as he dared to say with Greer right there.

Hersh didn’t respond or give any indication of whether he understood.

Reese vanished into the dark with Finch.

 

* * *

 

Shaw killed the line on her comlink and headed to the door of the crappy motel room that Root had gotten for them.

No cameras here and they could pay in cash, Root had reasoned.

When she got in the room she found Root sitting on the dilapidated dresser next to the tv, a laptop balanced on her lap. She was still wearing Shaw’s security jacket that she’d taken to hide the blood all over the back of her shirt when they checked in. She’d insisted that Shaw call Reese before she’d let her examine her.

“Reese has Finch,” Shaw said when Root looked up.

The look of absolute relief that passed over Root’s face was a bit overwhelming to witness. Shaw looked away, uncomfortable.

“He says he’s more or less okay. Physically fine but kind of traumatized. He’s getting him somewhere safe.”

“That’s...that’s good,” Root said, her voice choked with emotion.

“Yeah, and they stopped that bomb from going off, too.” Shaw went over to one of the two beds and dumped out the contents of the white plastic bag of medical supplies she’d made Root stop to get on their way here to supplement what had been in Root’s duffel bag.

She'd dug the stupid RFID chips out of their arms in the drug store parking lot and chucked them off into the woods before stealing a new car for them. Hopefully that'd make them a little harder to trace.

“Sounds like Reese handled his end of things,” Root said. The clicking of her laptop keys told Shaw she’d gone back to typing.

“Reese always comes through,” Shaw said, staring at the supplies sitting on the bed.

Reese had been trying to hide it but she’d been able to tell how strongly he felt about getting Finch back, and now Root was barely holding it together. Shaw didn’t know what to say or do for either of them.

So she stuck to what she knew.

“No more putting it off. Gotta clean that bullet wound now.”

Root sighed and slid off the dresser, setting the laptop down on it. “She says the power is going back on. She’s going to try and find out what the status of Decima getting Garrison and the others on their side is.”

Shaw nodded. “So no idea when Samaritan is going live?”

“Still not clear.”

Shaw motioned towards the bed. “Take your shirt off and lie on your stomach.”

That finally pulled a smile out of Root, the first she’d seen since they’d gotten to the motel, and she got treated to Root attempting to do a sexy strip-tease with her shirt which was ruined by the fact it was stuck to her back with blood.

Shaw had to help her in the end and Root didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. If anything she looked pleased with herself. She was wearing a sports bra under the shirt which Shaw ended up cutting off with the small pair of scissors she’d bought.

“Lie down,” she said, giving Root a little push towards one of the bed before she tried to do something else stupid and made her injury worse.

She went into the bathroom and wet a washcloth and then came back to see that Root had actually followed her instructions and was lying out across the one bed on her stomach, resting her head on its right side.

Shaw came over and sat next to her on her right side, taking a good look at the mess on her back for the first time. It was hard to tell how bad it was with all the blood plastered all over. She carefully pressed the washcloth against Root’s back, below where she thought the wound ended. Root shivered slightly and tensed. Shaw waited until she relaxed again before slowly going to work getting rid of as much of the blood as she could without getting too near the wound. She wouldn’t use some shitty motel washcloth on that unless she had to.

Root was completely still under her hands as she worked, eyes shut and hands loosely tangled in the blanket. Shaw wondered if the Machine was giving her a constant updates of what was happening back in the city. Out here at some rundown motel in the middle of nowhere with only the sound of crickets outside, New York and their lives there felt very far away.

“You’re going to need a few stitches,” Shaw said when she’d gotten the wound cleaned up to her satisfaction. “Gonna hurt a lot and we don’t have much in the way of painkillers.” She hesitated, tracing a finger up and down Root’s skin a few inches away from the wound. “I could run back out and get some cheap liquor or something but that would just make it bleed more.”

“It’s fine,” Root said, softly. “Stitch it up.” She didn’t open her eyes.

Shaw tried to be quick and efficient about the stitches, but even though Root barely made a sound her face was tight with pain, fingers clenched in the blanket. Shaw tied off the final stitch with a sense of relief and set about cleaning the wound again and bandaging it.

“Greer had to take Garrison and Rivera to see the bomb Reese disarmed before they were really convinced,” Root said, breaking the silence as Shaw worked on taping the bandaging on.

“But he won them over?”

Root nodded. “They were pretty freaked out about having had a giant bomb under their feet for over an hour. Greer will have access to the government feeds sometime early tomorrow after they get back to Washington.”

“We gonna move somewhere else before then?” They were supposed to hole up for two days, after all.

“This isn’t a bad place to stay,” Root said. Her eyes were still shut. “No cameras, miles away from anything larger than a small town. It’s not glamorous, but it’ll keep us safe.”

They'd been supposed to split up now, but Root must have changed her mind or something.

“Okay.” She wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it. Too much was happening too quickly and she didn’t think she could come up with a better plan right now.

She reached out with a finger and traced the path of the wound that she could still see in her mind’s eye over the bandage on Root’s back, lightly enough that it didn’t put any pressure on it. The shot had clipped her at an angle from left to right across her right shoulder-blade. If the angle had been a little different…. She pulled her hand away from the bandage and instead ran a single finger down Root’s spine from her neck down to the top of her pants. Root shivered again under her touch and then sighed gently. Shaw took her hand away, unsure why she’d done that.

Root’s eyes cracked open and she looked back over at her.

“Sameen?” she asked, making her name a question.

Shaw looked away. “All finished. Try not to rip the stitches. I’ll change the bandaging before we head back.”

“Okay.” Root sounded exhausted and Shaw was suddenly mad again and not quite sure who or what she was mad at.

Not at Root. At Decima. At Control and the ISA. At the entire stupid world for becoming a place where things like Samaritan were deemed necessary. At the fact that Root might be about to lose the Machine and how much she could tell it was tearing her apart and there was nothing she could do to fix it. And at that damn wound she thought she could still see in full color right through the bandages that would have hit the back of Root’s head if the bullet had been a few inches to the left.

She felt something tap her leg and looked down to see Root had somehow awkwardly maneuvered her arm back to rest one hand on her thigh. Shaw looked at her hand and all she could think was that Root had better not have ripped her stitches already.

“You gonna be up all night?” she asked finally.

“Yes.”

Shaw had figured Root wouldn’t go to sleep until Samaritan came online and the Machine had to go quiet. She’d already looked burnt out when they’d left with the servers this morning and Shaw couldn’t imagine she felt any better now after all the running around they’d done, but she wasn’t going to argue with her. Not about this. Not when she was so clearly focused in on the Machine’s voice with every fiber of her being.

Shaw got up from the bed reluctantly, Root’s hand slipping off her leg, and pulled a clean shirt out of the duffel bag. She chucked her current shirt, bra, shoes, socks, and pants before pulling on the clean shirt. She really needed a shower but she was too exhausted on every level to deal with that tonight.

She cleaned up the medical supplies from the bed and turned off all the lights except the one between the beds. Then she stopped, standing uncertainly between the two beds.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” she asked after a few seconds of not moving.

“Not great, but I’ve had worse,” Root answered without opening her eyes.

“Right. Uh, you need any painkillers? Only got tylenol but it’s better than nothing.”

“Maybe later.” She sounded distracted and Shaw kicked herself. Root was trying to spend time with the Machine and she was messing that up.

“Right,” she said, again. She didn’t move though.

Root half-rolled onto her good shoulder to look at her and Shaw stared back at her, not being able to find thoughts or words for what she wanted. Root watched her quietly but intently, like she could see straight through her, and for once Shaw hoped she could.

“You know, Sameen,” Root said finally, her voice careful. “It’s been a long day. And a lot of bad things are about to happen, have already started happening. So I was thinking, I mean I know it’s not your thing, but maybe we can bend the rules tonight and you can stay over here with me?” She patted the bed next to her with one hand. She gave Shaw a half-smile. “Indulge me.”

Shaw felt some of the tension ease out of her muscles and found that she could move again.

“Yeah, sure, whatever, Root,” she muttered moving over to the bed and waiting for Root to slide over enough that she could get in.

She got under the covers (even though Root stayed lying on top of them) and flopped on her back. After a moment Root’s arm snaked over, the weight of it lying across her stomach. Shaw let out a small sigh and inched over ever so slightly so their sides were pressed together through the blankets. Her right arm was awkwardly wedged between them so she moved it up to fold over her stomach, inches from where Root’s arm was.

Here, with the solid weight of Root pressed against her, she could finally banish the image of Root crumpling to the ground in the dark by that fence. Every time it clawed its way back into her mind she angrily tried to banish it, and every time it came back. But now it was easier; Root was warm next to her and her fingers were scratching back and forth every so lightly on Shaw’s stomach and she felt strangely safe.

“Root?” she called softly, already feeling herself on the edge of sleep.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“We’re gonna fix this. Kick Samaritan’s ass off the planet.”

She heard Root chuckle quietly and the last bit of unease in her fell away.

“Of course we will. Get some sleep first, though.”

Shaw burrowed into the warmth of Root and the blankets a little more, breathed out a satisfied sigh, and let sleep claim her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the last scene of this about eight times. I'm still not sure how it turned out.
> 
> Also, yes, somehow I did seem to write the Hersh and Reese bromance nobody asked for and I never knew I wanted.
> 
> Next chapter Thursday since I'm actually on schedule with writing somehow.


	14. Intermission 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an intermission chapter? Not a huge amount happens. Some downtime and some checking in with various parties.

 

Shaw woke up to the sound of rain and faint light streaming in through the curtains of the motel. She stretched her arms above her, getting her bearings, and then froze a she realized that something important was missing.

Where the hell was Root?

She jumped out of bed, checked the small bathroom, and even opened the front door and looked around the immediate area to no avail. They'd ditched their last stolen car a ways away from the motel and gotten here on foot last night, so at least Root hadn't driven off. Unless she'd stolen another car.

“Dammit, Root,” she muttered, slamming the door shut and pacing up and down the room. Her first instinct was to take off after her. Technically Root could be anywhere by now, but the strip of stores about a mile down the road was a good place to start looking.

The problem was they weren't supposed to go out. If Root's servers hadn't done their jobs correctly they'd be in immediate danger, and  even if they had, their cover identities would be out of place here. And yet Root apparently thought she didn't have to follow the rules. The Machine’s rules.

Well, if Root was already out there then she’d left her without any other options so it’d still be her own damn fault if Shaw went out and got caught.

She had pulled her clothes on and was checking her gun when the door swung open and Root casually strolled in. She had a black hoodie on, damp from the rain with the hood up to hide her head as much as possible, and had pulled all her hair back somehow as well.

“What the hell, Root?” Shaw snapped. “What happened to playing it safe?”

Root held up a large paper bag she'd been carrying. “Just getting us some breakfast down the road.”

“And if Samaritan had seen you? Is breakfast worth that?” Okay, so she was starving, but that wasn't the point.

“I was careful,” Root said, sounding unconcerned. She pushed past Shaw into the room discarding her hoodie and letting her hair back down. She opened the bag and held out what looked like a sandwich wrapped in white paper to her. Whatever it was smelled really good.

Shaw snatched it, still glaring, and sat down on the bed to judge the meal Root had procured for her.

“You could at least have left a note,” she said.

The sandwich appeared to be some sort of breakfast thing involving eggs, cheese, and a truly alarming amount of bacon. It would do.

“I thought I'd be back before you woke up,” Root said with a shrug. “I only wanted to get out and stretch my legs a little.”

“You know,” Shaw said between bites of what had to be the greasiest sandwich she had ever eaten, “that’s the sort of dumb stunt I’d expect me or Reese to pull. You should know better.” Even though Root was often the most unpredictable and chaotic member of their team usually the Machine kept her from doing anything that blatantly dumb.

Shaw paused mid-chew. The Machine. Oh. Right.

Root sat down on the other bed, legs crossed, and opened her own breakfast which was apparently only a bagel. Shaw watched her pick at it while she devoured her own food. She was too stiff, too guarded, and she’d just passed up the opportunity to sit down next to Shaw, which had basically never happened ever.

Of course Shaw knew what was wrong; The Machine had gone quiet and Samaritan was out there with free reign. But she’d thought Root would react differently, more emotionally. She’d expected anger, or tears, or both, but Root just looked hollow.

She suddenly had a good idea of why Root had left this morning, why her eyes looked a little too red now.

“Any idea what our situation is like out there?” Shaw asked, cautiously.

“Samaritan went live early this morning,” Root replied. She had given up any pretense of eating her bagel and was leaning back on her arms looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know much more than that.”

Shaw got up and found paper napkins in the bag Root had brought back and attempted to clean all the grease off her hands. “Anything we can do then?” It felt like she was having to pry words out of Root and she wasn’t enjoying it.

“Not for the next forty-something hours anyway.”

Shaw let out a frustrated sigh. Time for a different approach, because there was no way in hell she was spending two days watching Root mope.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” She turned and walked towards the bathroom peeling her shirt off as she went. “Feel free to join me.”

A glance back at Root showed her face in a state of confusion, trying to shift mental gears too quickly. Shaw raised her eyebrows at her in challenge and then went in the bathroom.

She knew this wasn’t solving any problems, but maybe it would take Root’s mind off of it for a bit. Sex between them had always been easy, natural and somewhere along the way it had become familiar. Root could probably do with something familiar right now.

She hoped Root understood.

When Root joined her a few seconds later she looked a little less blank, a little more firmly in the present.

Between the frustrating hilarity of trying to find something to tape over Root’s bandage to keep it dry, the tiny shower turning the whole thing into a sexy game of human tetris, and the fact the hot water ran out unfortunately quickly the whole thing could have gone a lot smoother. But they were both smiling when they left the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

“Wait,” Control said in a tone that allowed for no argument.

Hersh shut his mouth and waited. He hadn’t gotten where he was by arguing with his superiors. He shifted in the chair facing Control’s desk. He’d often suspected that she’d purposefully gotten uncomfortable chairs both to distract her guests and to encourage them not to overstay.

“Phone,” Control said, holding out a small wooden box.

He had no clue where this was going but dropped his phone in.

“Any other electronic devices on you? Anything at all?”

Hersh shook his head, he’d left his personal phone locked in the car. Control put her own phone in the box as well and shut it, looking satisfied.

“It’s lined with lead,” she explained. “I’m making sure no one, nothing, can hear us.”

“Of course, ma’am.” He found it made things easier to go along with these things. Everyone he’d ever worked for had their own peculiarities.

“Now, tell me everything,” Control sat back in her chair, and folded her arms in front of her.

Hersh tried to remember as much of the previous night as he could. He hadn’t slept yet and it was starting to bother him.

“After Vigilance abducted you and your colleagues, I was approached by the man we know as John Reese.”

“Approached by?”

“He showed up in the hotel and pointed a gun at me.” It was as close as they got to a greeting.

“How did he get there?” Control picked up her cup of tea from her desk and took a sip.

“I’m not sure, but he knew where Vigilance was headed so I thought it best to indulge him until we caught up with them.”

“And how did that go?”

Hersh shifted again in the chair. He really hated these damn things.

“We had to catch up on foot due to the power outage but as far as I could tell we took the most direct route. He had his own reason for wanting to find them: the man he took with him last night.”

“Yes, Harold Finch.” Control’s eyes narrowed. “I would have liked to have held onto him, but it’s not important at the moment. You said that John Reese already knew about the bomb in the basement?”

“He did.”

“Any idea how he knew all these things? Could he have been behind it?”

Hersh had spent a lot of the ride back thinking over everything that had happened, trying to sort it all out in an unbiased manner.

“I don’t think it’s likely, ma’am. From everything you’ve told me Reese and his lot work for the Machine, and since the events of last night led directly to Samaritan coming online I don’t see what their angle would be. I understood that they were competing systems.” He’d decided not to try explaining all the evil computer overlord stuff that Reese had been babbling about. He didn’t think Control would appreciate it.

“So you believe Vigilance set up the bomb then?”

“It’s one possibility,” he said carefully.

Control sighed and put her teacup down.

“Whatever it is, spit it out.”

Hersh knew better than to start listing off half-baked theories to her, but there was just enough little bits that fit into place that he would be remiss if he didn’t mention it.

“Reese insinuated that it was Decima who had planted the bomb, and that they were, in fact, funding Vigilance. He implied the entire organization was a sham, set up for the purpose of scaring Garrison and the others into accepting Samaritan.”

Control’s face didn’t give away anything. He wondered if his poker face fell short of hers and felt a small stab of jealousy. He’d worked hard to look that blank.

“Anything else?” Control asked.

“The Vigilance troops we ran into on our way in were all already dead, long before the police arrived. And then we encountered some more combatants in the basement while disarming the bomb who were very clearly not Vigilance. No sure way to tie them to Decima.”

“One of the most consistent features of Decima agents is that there’s no way to tie them back to Decima,” Control pointed out and Hersh nodded in agreement.

“Reese was a bit off. Kept talking about how Samaritan was going to stage a hostile takeover.” That was as far as he was going with that nonsense.

“Interesting,” Control said though it was impossible to tell if she actually meant it. She sighed and shuffled some paperwork on her desk. “So John Reese thinks Decima manipulated the government into using Samaritan and that they have some larger plan that might be outside our interests?”

Hersh nodded. That was a very good way to sum it up and maybe he’d have managed better if he’d gotten any sleep. Of course, Control hadn’t slept either but he wasn’t sure she actually ever did sleep.

“Any sign of the rest of his band? Agent Shaw or the one who calls herself Root?”

Hersh shook his head. “Reese talked to Shaw by satellite phone briefly, but I got the impression she wasn’t in the city. I think he may have mentioned Root as well.” That one had always bothered him a little. The time she’d shot him in the psychiatric hospital weighed on his mind because there was no way someone could pull off a blind shot like that. Though since then in his work for Control he’d started to suspect it was far more complicated than a trick shot.

Control didn’t even seem to be listening to him anymore, which was fine. He’d rather not have to tell her about Shaw’s dog and girlfriend. It was always good to hear his former students were doing well, but somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate that.

“Why did you want me to spare Reese?” Control asked suddenly. Her eyes snapped up to pin him to his seat.

“If what he said about Decima was even close to true and he works for the Machine, well, I thought it best to keep our options open, ma’am. I hope I wasn’t out of line.”

Control pursed her lips. “No, I think that may prove to have been a very good choice, Hersh.”

“As you say, ma’am.” That was one of those great statements he loved to use since it sounded agreeable without actually meaning a damn thing.

“I think that will be all,” Control said, dismissing him.

“Of course.” Hersh rose gratefully from the horrible chair and then paused, taken aback by the look Control was giving him.

“Ma’am?” What had he done?

“That’s it? You’re not going to ask any questions?” She sounded amused, which was never a good sign.

“Not my job to ask you questions.”

Control smiled, a smile he’d seen destroy men before. Fortunately he was used to it by now.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Control said. “First of all, you’re going to keep an eye on Decima. Both eyes actually. I want to know if they so much as breathe out of place. Secondly I want a hard copy of all the mission data from any threat that Samaritan alerts us to. Something that can’t be erased.”

Hersh nodded. That was all easy enough.

“We have to play ball with Decima for now, Hersh, but we don’t have to trust them.”

Hersh couldn’t think of the last time he’d actually trusted someone so that wouldn’t be an issue.

“Now go and get some sleep, man. You look terrible.”

Well, that stung a little.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

He left after retrieving his phone and headed back towards the elevator to go find his car. Only once he was on his way home did he allow himself a moment to wonder if Reese and the others had all made it through the night okay. He wondered if he’d be seeing them again and what his orders would be if he did.

 

* * *

 

Root restlessly clicked through news sites on her laptop, drumming her fingers on her leg. She was sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the headboard of one of the beds, and trying not to get up and start pacing around and fidgeting with everything again. Shaw had threatened to sit on her if she started that again. Though that had possibilities.

“I mean I knew there wouldn’t be anything obvious, but I thought maybe even something little. Something that would point at Samaritan taking a hand in things,” Root said, breaking the silence.

Shaw grunted in acknowledgment. She was stretched out on the other bed, hands behind her head, watching some sports thing muted on the tv. It was late in their second day here and Shaw had given up on wearing more than a sports bra and boyshorts much to Root’s delight.

They’d been mostly subsisting off of shitty take-out pizza, the kind that could be ordered online and then paid for in cash, and Shaw was probably reaching the end of her tolerance for bad food. Root didn’t mind so much; she’d gotten used to eating cheap fast food and drugstore fare for a good part of her life before she’d had enough money to improve her dining options.

“I wish we had any indication at all of what to expect,” Root continued. She’d known on some level that it would be exactly like this. She was mostly talking for the sake of avoiding silence. Shaw had caught onto that pretty quickly and seemed to understand that no response was needed other than an occasional indication that she was listening.

Root dumped the laptop onto the bed, bored with it. She couldn’t do anything really fun with it, just browse the internet. The temptation to dig around a little was always there, her fingers itching to pry open secrets. The Machine’s absence was like having a part of herself torn away and she couldn’t even reach out for the familiar comfort of her questionably legal electronic proclivities.

She got up off the bed, figuring that putting distance between herself and the laptop would help prevent her from doing anything dumb, and walked over to flop on the free side of Shaw’s bed, half curled on her side and her head propped up on one arm so she could see the tv.

“Who’s playing?” she asked. It was baseball which, she supposed, wasn’t as boring as some sports. The only part of sports she really enjoyed was the statistics and probability that went into predicting games. The game itself wasn't as interesting to her.

“Uh,” Shaw squinted at the tv. “The Yankees, I guess.”

Root leaned over and blew a stream of cool air onto Shaw’s exposed stomach. This earned her a swat on the head.

“What was that for?” Shaw asked indignantly, rubbing her stomach with one hand.

Root grinned at her. “Just getting your attention.”

“Well, you have it now, so what do you want?” Shaw still looked cross, but it was her normal defensiveness, more bark than bite.

“I wanted to know what you’d been thinking about so intently that you didn’t even know who was playing in the game you’ve been staring at for the last hour.”

“Thinkin’ about how bored I am.” It was a lie and they both knew it, but Root didn’t comment. If Shaw didn’t want to share then she wasn’t going to push.

They’d fallen into a weird pattern over the last day of spending time together and apart in rounds. Sometimes they’d fight over the tv remote, or take turns talking about some of the more ridiculous things they’d had to do on missions, or just fuck, but they always ended up retreating to opposite beds at some point, regrouping. It was a surprisingly comfortable dynamic.

In some sort of unspoken agreement they’d both slept in the same bed again their second night there, though on opposite sides. Root had woken up to find she'd rolled onto Shaw’s side of the bed, but Shaw had already gotten up so she wasn’t sure when her invasion had taken place.

The whole thing felt like living in a weird time bubble that would surely burst the minute they had to leave and head back to their lives (their new lives now) in the city, but Root planned to enjoy it for as long as she could. It would have been nice if it weren’t for the horrendous silence left by the Machine’s absence.

Shaw abruptly sat up on the bed, fished in the drawer of the nightstand between the two beds, and pulled out the bag of medical supplies she’d stored there.

“Figure I should change that bandage before we take off,” she said. “You suck at keeping it dry in the shower.”

“Well, I had some help with that,” Root replied with a grin.

Shaw rolled her eyes but looked rather pleased with herself. “Shirt off and turn around.”

She decided to give the obvious opportunity for flirting a pass and did as she was told, only wincing slightly as she pulled the shirt over her head. She’d given up on bras for the time being since they would have rubbed up against the wound.

Shaw gently pulled the tape around the bandaging off. The light touch of her fingers raised goosebumps along Root’s skin, made her curl her fingers into the sheets. She’d never had as visceral a reaction to another person as she did with Shaw.

“At least you didn’t rip the stitches,” Shaw muttered, her fingers rubbing the skin near the wound lightly.

Root sat still as she cleaned and rebandaged the area, resisting the urge to sink back into her touch. She didn’t think Shaw would appreciate that while she was in doctor mode.

“Okay, should be good. I’ll change it again in a few days.”

Root played with the blanket in front of her, picking at a loose thread. “We both know that’s probably not going to be an option, Sameen.”

“I’m your doctor and I’m telling you to find a way to make it an option.” Shaw’s voice was hard, allowing for no arguments.

Root had the sudden urge to turn around and kiss her. Just...kiss her. Not as foreplay or anything else, she only wanted to feel Shaw against her, breathe her in. But she wasn’t sure how Shaw would react and didn’t want to ruin the easy feeling they’d had between them for the last day.

She fought down the urge and turned around to face her.

“I’m not going to put you in danger over a silly little scratch.”

“This isn’t a discussion,” Shaw said stubbornly, focused on stuffing the remaining supplies back into their bag.

Root was about to launch into the list of reasons that couldn’t happen when there was a small burst of static in her ear and then suddenly She was back, filling Root’s head with words and music. She let out a half-choked sob of pure relief and gratitude. The Machine was back, Shaw was here with her, and everything was going to be okay.

“What?” Shaw looked completely bewildered, unsure of what had happened.

“She’s okay,” Root said, her throat so tight with emotion that it was a struggle to get the words out. “She’s okay.”

Comprehension dawned on Shaw’s face. “The Machine? She...that’s good, right? Is she safe? What about Samaritan? Did your plan work?”

It was too many questions to deal with when all Root wanted was to sink into the sounds in her head, but Shaw deserved some answers.

“She’s safe for now. She’s being careful, very careful. She won’t talk to me for long right now, but She wanted to make sure we knew She was okay. The protection we set up for Her worked, so Samaritan will have a hard time spotting Her as long as She plays it safe. And if that worked it means we should be okay, too.”

It was as if all the tension of months was fading away. It had worked; they were all okay. There was still a long uphill battle to fight, but everything they’d done up until now had been worth it.

“And Samaritan? What’s it up to?” Shaw sounded eager, excited.

“Not a whole lot so far. It’s mostly watching, learning. It’s channeling relevant threats to the ISA, but that’s about it.”

“What about Reese? And Finch? Does she know what happened to them? And Bear?”

Root felt a little guilty that she hadn’t even thought about them. She’d been so overwhelmed with relief that they hadn’t crossed her mind until Shaw had brought them up.

“She thinks they’re okay. The contingency plan She had takes them completely off the grid, even more so than us. They were alright the last time She saw them though.”

Shaw looked pleased. “Good. I’d kick Reese’s ass if he got himself dead.” She glanced at Root’s face and then away with a frown. “I’m, uh, gonna go take a shower. You can fill me in on any other updates when I get out.” She slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Root nodded, absurdly grateful that Shaw was giving her some space to talk to Her. Shaw had already had a shower early in the day so there was no mistaking her gesture for anything other than what it was.

She pulled her shirt back on and laid back on the bed, listening to the Machine in her ear and the faint background noise of the water running in the bathroom. For the first time in months she thought that maybe they actually had a chance.

 

* * *

 

“Still no sign of them, sir?” Jeremy Lambert came to a halt behind Greer’s left shoulder, making it a point to ignore the woman standing to the right of Greer.

“Not yet,” Greer allowed. “But they can’t stay hidden forever. Sooner or later they’ll have to come out of hiding and when they do Samaritan will be ready.” The glowing screen on the wall displaying some of Samaritan’s feeds lit his face with a pale glow.

“I’m ready right now,” the woman said. “Let me go find them.”

Greer chuckled. “Patience, Martine. You’ll get your chance soon enough.”

Martine smiled in her habitual bloodthirsty manner and looked right at Lambert. He frowned but then quickly turned it into his best, most obsequious smile.

“How are things going with our friends at the ISA, Lambert?” Greer asked, oblivious to the fact his two subordinates were in the middle of a death-stare match.

“Quite well, sir. Samaritan is giving them everything they could ever want and more. I’ve heard no complaints.” He hadn’t been working with them directly, of course. Forced fraternization with the American government was beneath him.

“Good, be sure you keep an eye on them. There’s a few people over there who actually have brains in their heads.”

“I’m sure Lambert wouldn’t know anything about that,” Martine said and this time Lambert didn’t bother to hide his glare. Things had been much better before she’d become Greer’s spoiled favorite operative.

“Play nice, children,” Greer said. He looked amused. “There’s plenty of glory to go around.”

“When the Machine’s agents do come out of hiding, what do we do then, sir?” Martine asked.

Greer smiled coldly. “Whatever Samaritan tells us to, my dear.”

 

* * *

 

“This is your ride, Sameen.” Root motioned towards the parking lot behind the drugstore they’d just walked to. “Really, any of them you can hotwire is yours. She thought She’d let you choose.”

Shaw looked over the sad display of cars in the lot. “Really? This is the best she can do?”

She’d been looking forward to the drive back, but not in one of these heaps. At least they’d be pretty easy to hotwire which was probably the point.

“She’s a little distracted at the moment,” Root said. She was looking around constantly, eyes flicking from spot to spot. They were standing on the edge of the treeline across the street from the drugstore where they'd walked to after checking out of the motel.

“We’re more or less on our own.” Root didn’t sound pleased about that.

Shaw nodded. “Pretty sure I don’t need any help finding a better car to steal along the way.”

Root’s eyes snapped back to her and then away again. “You can’t do that anymore. This parking lot doesn’t have any cameras pointed at it so it’s relatively safe.” Root smiled without humor. “As safe as anything is now.”

Shaw shifted restlessly, already feeling the constraints of her new life chafing.

“Ugh, fine. I hope she at least set me up with a decent apartment.” It was a detail of her new life she hadn’t put much thought into. Not that she really cared.

“She didn’t give me any details on that, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Guess I will.”

Neither of them moved and the silence stretched out, broken only by the sound of the wind blowing through the trees behind them. Root had been pretty quiet since she’d woken Shaw up at four am to tell her it was time to move. She’d given her that map she’d been drawing on when they’d driven out here which had clear directions on how to get back to civilization, but otherwise she’d barely spoken.

“Where’re you headed?” Shaw asked at last.

“Not completely sure yet,” Root said. “Down the road a bit more and then She’ll update me when She can.”

She was going to wander along the side of the road until the Machine decided to give her more intel? What sort of dumbass plan was that?

“I can give you a lift, you know.”

Root shook her head. “Let’s not start this off by doing something risky.”

Shaw let out a frustrated breath. She couldn’t give help where it wasn’t wanted. “Fine. I’m going to take off then.”

She took a step towards the road and then stopped, turning back around. “And I expect to see you in two days. Understand? Tell your boss that it’s not negotiable.”

Root finally really looked at her for what might have been the first time since they’d left the motel.

“I’m probably not going to be in this state in two days, Shaw,” Root said with a little smile. “I got the impression She has something planned for me. She did say She’d find me a doctor.”

Shaw frowned but only nodded. “Any idea if we’re going to be getting numbers?”

“She said soon but not right away,” Root said, her head tilted the way she sometimes did when listening to the Machine. “She wants to make sure Samaritan isn’t going to try tracking us that way.”

“Safe-houses and the bases we set up are okay though, right?”

Root nodded. “She doesn’t think they’ve been compromised.”

Shaw decided she’d been standing still long enough. “I’m gonna take off.”

Root smiled. “Tell John I said hi. And Lionel, I’m sure he misses me _lots_. Oh, and Bear.”

“Anyone else?” Shaw asked. “Want me to tell the Mayor of New York while I’m at it?”

Root’s smile turned into a smirk. “No, he’s probably still upset about the time I stole his laptop and his antique teapot.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “And on that note….” She turned away again. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Stay safe, Sameen.”

The drive back to the city was very quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am unfortunately excruciatingly behind on writing at the moment. Sunday's chapter is written already but that's it. Hopefully I get more done in the next few days or I may have a full week between chapters to catch up.


	15. Life Goes On

 

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Zoe Morgan said, leaning forward to shake the hand of the man behind the desk.

Shaw shifted a little to the left so she still had a clear view of them both, though she wasn’t really worried. This random suit was about as threatening as a box of kleenex, and his face gave away every thought that went through his tiny mind.

“You’ll be hearing from us soon,” the man, whose name Shaw had already forgotten, said, basically leering at Zoe.

Zoe only smiled professionally and turned to leave. “Come on, Sameen.”

Shaw treated the man to one last glare and left the office at Zoe’s heels.

It was still a bit weird to have someone call her by her first name all the time, but they’d decided it made things easier. She wasn’t adjusted enough to her new fake last name of Gray to respond to it quickly, and Zoe only used her first name in public and did a good job of making the situation as comfortable as possible.

In the elevator to the lobby Zoe stretched and sighed. “Well?”

“He’s lying,” Shaw said without hesitation. She fussed with the stiff black blazer she was wearing over her black button down to hide the gun. It wasn’t that it looked bad, but it was a little too restricting. “Written all over his face. Probably gonna try and double cross you.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought,” Zoe said. She sighed. “Oh well. I wouldn’t enjoy my job if it was simple.”

“He also has something important pertaining to your judge friend in his desk drawer. Probably a copy of those files you're after.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “Now that I didn’t catch. What makes you say that?”

“Couple times you mentioned needing the files he has on this judge his eyes twitched to the drawer. Could have been a coincidence once, but not five times.” It had been a very slight movement, but she was positive.

“You continue to impress,” Zoe said with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Shaw followed Zoe across the lobby and out to the street where she’d miraculously been able to find good parking. She waited for Zoe to get in before settling herself into the driver’s seat and pulling out into traffic.

The debates she’d had with Root about what cover she was going to use once Samaritan came online had been many and often hostile on her side. She’d actually dumped Root in the hall of her apartment building and locked her out (for five minutes anyway) after she’d suggested Shaw should entertain for children’s parties. They’d gone back and forth over the possibilities for over a week. All of Root and the Machine’s ideas didn’t appeal to Shaw at all, and all of Shaw’s ideas were too exposed or dangerous.

It had been Reese who had come up with the idea of her acting as Zoe’s bodyguard/driver since he’d filled a similar role once, however briefly. She got to carry a gun, drive, and had a very flexible schedule. There’d been a little worry about their past associations with Zoe being a dangerous connection, but the Machine had scrubbed all digital data like camera feeds that had any record of Zoe’s time with any of them before Samaritan had come online.

Zoe was pretty pleased with the whole setup since she got free help out of it (the money that paid Shaw’s salary was being wired to Zoe’s account through a series of anonymous transfers and then paid back to Shaw) and Root was also helping her out with some favors on the side.

“You’re really very good at reading people,” Zoe remarked as they weaved through traffic.

Shaw shrugged noncommittally. She’d been watching people closely her whole life, learning their reactions. It was a talent that made her far more valuable to Zoe than driving did.

The bodyguard part was pretty hit or miss; most of Zoe’s dealings were non-violent, but since she had Shaw with her now she’d taken on a couple more dangerous jobs and Shaw had gotten to thoroughly pummel an entire room full of some banker’s private security guards. She'd torn the blazer she'd bought herself in the process and Zoe had insisted on getting her this new one which, she acknowledged, looked great on her, but was not as conducive to freedom of movement.

It definitely wasn’t the same thrill as working the numbers, but it wasn’t the worst job ever.

“Oh, I got a text from your friend,” Zoe said from the back seat. “She finished up that work she was doing for me. Didn’t say much but I thought you’d want to know she was okay.”

The fact Root was helping Zoe out was the only proof Shaw had that she was still alive. As expected, she’d failed to show up for her two day check-up and there’d been no direct word from her during the last three weeks. She suspected the encrypted self-deleting texts Root and Zoe used to communicate were Root’s way of letting her know she was okay.

“What was she doing?” Shaw asked, curious.

“Getting all the digital copies of some incriminating documents someone needs to disappear. Standard stuff.”

“Speaking of documents disappearing, want me to get those papers out of that guy’s office tonight?” She’d glanced over the building’s security enough to know it wouldn’t be an issue.

Zoe chuckled. “I would never stand in the way of you having some fun, Shaw.”

Shaw slammed her hand down on the horn at the car in front of her who apparently hadn’t noticed the light had changed. Out of town drivers were the worst.

“Breaking and entering only rates as like a six out of ten on the fun scale,” she said. Maybe a seven if there were armed guards.

Zoe laughed. “You can drop me off at home, now,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be going out again today. Take some time for yourself.”

It was barely lunch time and Shaw really didn’t need any time for herself, but she didn’t argue. She figured Zoe probably had personal plans or something.

She’d met up with Reese and Fusco in the subway a week after they’d gotten back and they’d been having check-ins every three days, alternating between the subway and the townhouse. Reese had been completely closed-mouthed on the subject of Finch, much to her annoyance, only saying he wasn’t in the city and he was safe.

It had been nice to see Bear again, though. The three of them were sharing custody of him at the moment, and trying to juggle their jobs with dog ownership was still a work in progress. Fusco’s kid ended up dog-sitting a lot after school.

She wanted to be back working the numbers again. Hell, the whole reason the job with Zoe had been so appealing was that allowed her the flexibility to have more time to do just that, but so far the Machine had maintained radio silence.

“I’m sure your mysterious source will show up again,” Zoe said sympathetically when they pulled up at the curb in front of her apartment. “You and John will be back to keeping us all safe by beating people up soon enough.”

“Then why haven’t we heard anything?” Shaw asked. “Reese is stuck in his day job, the Ma….our source hasn’t been talking to us, and who the hell knows what Root’s game is?” She climbed out of the car when Zoe did and joined her on the sidewalk.

She’d tried to get the Machine to talk to her, give her a number or anything, but there hadn’t even been any of those little static bursts.

“When Root talks to me she’s all business,” Zoe said. “Never gives any indication of where she is or what she’s doing.”

“Yeah, well, she’d never pass up an opportunity to be insufferably cryptic,” Shaw grumbled.

Zoe nodded and looked up and down the sidewalk. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Unless you want a day off. You’re allowed to take a day off if you need to go look into things.”

“What the hell would I do with a day off?” Maybe once there was a number.

“In that case, do let me know how your little, ah, adventure goes this evening.”

Shaw grinned. “Will do.”

She waited on the street until Zoe got inside and was about to get back in the car when she heard a familiar noise from down the street.

A payphone was ringing.

 

* * *

 

“How do you ever get anything done with all this paperwork?” Reese asked mournfully, as he flipped through the stack on his desk.

“Hey, we take stuff seriously here,” Fusco said, annoyed. “Paperwork like that is to make sure we remain accountable. To each other and to the public.”

“Too bad paperwork didn’t prevent HR,” Reese muttered.

Fusco must have heard because he slammed his coffee mug down on his desk and stormed off across the precinct. Reese sighed and leaned back in his chair. He shouldn’t be so cynical about all of this. He was working a job that let him help people out and save lives. Wasn’t that what he wanted? But the hoops he had to jump through to get anything done were grating on him.

Mostly he wanted to get back to saving numbers, fighting Samaritan, doing something. Anything.

And he wanted to know how Finch was though he wasn’t sure there’d ever be a secure way to find that out. At least he was probably safe.

He gave the paperwork on his desk one more disgusted look and then got up and headed out the door. Maybe a walk around the block would clear his mind, help him work off some of the restless energy he felt.

He was glad he had Fusco here with him, as much as he was probably pissing off the other man. He had Fusco and Shaw had Zoe so at least they both had someone to talk to on a daily basis. But he wanted to know what was going on, what Samaritan was up to, how the Machine was doing, what the plan was.

He knew from the news that the terrorist organization known as Vigilance had been largely rounded up by authorities over the last week or two and were no longer considered a serious threat, and he’d found an article in the business section of the times talking about Decima Technologies dismantling and selling off its subsidiaries. He wasn’t naive enough to assume Decima was gone, more likely they’d restructured themselves under Samaritan.

He was almost all the way around the block when a noise jarred him out of his thoughts. A ringing sound. He turned slowly to stare at the payphone on the corner. It kept ringing. He hurried over, grabbing a pen out of his pocket.

Back in the precinct he copied the number from the back of his hand onto a piece of paper and switched his computer monitor on, shoving all the paperwork to the side.

“You know you still have to do that, right?” Fusco asked, coming up behind him.

“Got a number, Lionel.”

Fusco’s eyebrows shot up. “A number? That thing is talking to you again?”

“Only gave me a number, but yes.”

“You know even if it’s giving you numbers you still have to do your job,” Fusco pointed out. “We save people here, too.”

“This is a life,” Reese said, typing quickly. “I’m not going to be responsible for someone dying because I didn’t fill out some forms.”

Fusco sighed. “Okay, show me what you got on this number, partner.”

Reese’s phone started vibrating on the desk. It was his personal phone, the one Root had given him before they’d all split up, which meant that it was almost certainly Shaw calling.

“Did you get it, too?” he asked when he picked up.

“Yeah, pay phone started ringing a few minutes ago,” Shaw said. “You got any sweet police hook-ups to use to look into this one? I’ll head back to the subway if not, do some digging.”

“Fusco and I are looking into it right now,” Reese said. Fusco had taken over his computer and was pulling up files faster than Reese would have been able to. “Looks like our number is a man named Ali Hasan. Owns an electronics shop. Got an address.”

“Text it to me. I’m on my way.”

Reese hung up and glanced at Fusco.

“You want to come with us to talk to this guy?”

Fusco shook his head. “Who would stay here to cover for you slacking off? Again?”

Reese patted him on the shoulder. “You’re my hero, Lionel.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw got home much later that night to find her door unlocked. Her gun was out before she even had time to think and she burst into her apartment, eyes sweeping over the darkened living room.

The room was clear but there was an enormous duffel bag sitting near the kitchen. She moved over towards it, keeping her gun out and eyes searching. The zipper on the bag was open and she nudged the bag with her foot to get a look at its contents.

“Welcome home, honey.”

Shaw pointed her gun at the voice even though she’d recognized it. Sure enough, Root was standing in the little alcove leading to her bedroom.

“Wanna tell me why there’s a bag full of cash and bricks of coke on my floor?” Shaw asked, not lowering her gun.

Root walked barefooted across the living room’s wood floors, completely ignoring the gun pointed at her and hunched down to fuss with the bag.

“Housewarming gift,” she said. “Though it’s a bit late, sorry. And I actually still need the drugs.”

Shaw finally lowered her gun and put it away. “Why the hell are you here, Root?”

“I was in the neighborhood.” She straightened back up and ran her eyes over Shaw. “Like the new look. It’s very professional and intimidating.”

Shaw was still wearing her black button down and blazer from earlier. Root, she noticed, was wearing an oversized band t-shirt and ripped jeans.

“And what the hell are you supposed to be? Backup singer for a garage band?” She moved further into her living room so her back was to Root.

“Drug dealer, actually. No real dress code there, so I went for something that was comfortable and didn’t make me look like an undercover cop. It’s a long story. Much better than my last identity, though. But that’s not important. I came with news.”

“About time,” Shaw grumbled. She kicked her shoes off and dumped her stupid blazer and gun harness onto a chair before relaxing back onto her couch.

She’d split up with Reese after their initial questioning of Hasan. He was supposed to tail the man, keep an eye out for possible threats, and fill her in tomorrow unless an emergency came up.

While he’d been doing that, she’d taken care of her after-hours work for Zoe. That had actually turned out to be fairly entertaining. The building’s alarm systems were antiquated but they did have a security detail on duty at all hours. Until Shaw had relieved them of that duty anyway.

“The Machine thinks it’s safe to start working the numbers again,” Root said rummaging around in her bag of drugs and cash. “Well, maybe not _safe_ , but as safe as She can guarantee with Samaritan watching.”

“Yeah, we got one earlier today. Already looking into it.”

“So I heard. This is just a reminder to be careful. If one of us gets caught doing something out of character it could endanger all of us. She’ll protect us as much as She can, though.” Root straightened up, brushing her hair back off her shoulders.

“She alright?”

“The Machine is as alive and safe as She can be,” Root said. She pulled herself up to sit on the kitchen counter. “She can’t talk to me as much as She used to, but it’s a lot better than it might have been if we’d had less time to put safeguards in place.”

“How about Finch?” Reese still wasn’t saying much on the subject.

“Finch is...safe. You can ask John for details on his situation, he probably knows more than She does about that.”

“Reese isn’t talking about him.”

Root sighed. “He’s the only one who knows anything.” She held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Shaw nodded and fought down the urge to ask the obvious question. Root was here and alive, she shouldn’t need any more information than that.

“Okay,” she said, slouching back again. “Is there a plan? For taking Samaritan down?”

Root kicked her heels against the side of the counter, and stared into space. “She’s working on that. Nothing to talk about yet.”

“Anything else?” There was an undercurrent of annoyance running through her that she couldn't quite shake.

“Not unless you’re interested in some more...extracurricular activities,” Root said, her tone making the implications quite clear.

“You get the stitches out yet?” she asked instead of acknowledging Root’s offer.

Root stopped kicking her legs and her face went blank.

“She found me someone in Washington to give me a hand.” Root fidgeted for a moment and then took a deep breath. “Listen, Shaw, I know I disappeared, but She needed my help and we weren’t sure it would be a good idea to be seen together that soon. I came back as soon as She thought I wouldn’t be putting any of us at risk.”

Shaw didn’t say anything, and chose instead to stare blankly at the living room floor. She’d known all that, of course, but she’d still been a bit ticked off when Root hadn’t shown up. There shouldn't be any reason for her to be annoyed about something logical, but she was.

“I also thought…” Root broke off.

“Thought what?”

“I thought maybe you needed some space after being stuck in a motel room with me for two days. Figured you’d want to recalibrate.”

“If I’d needed space I would’ve said,” Shaw said quietly, still staring at the ground.

There was no response from Root and after a minute Shaw looked up to find Root staring at her with a strange expression.

“Okay, Sameen,” Root said at last. “I’ll keep that in mind in the future.” She was smiling now, the real smile that came out so rarely.

Shaw felt her annoyance finally retreat and she got up and crossed the floor to stand in front of Root.

“Get down from there. I’ll see for myself how this supposed doctor did.”

Root made a point of bracing herself on Shaw’s shoulder to drop the short distance to the floor which ended up with her more or less pressed up against her. She didn’t stay there though, but instead moved over to sit on a chair and took one arm out of her shirt so Shaw could examine her.

Shaw followed her. She frowned when she noticed some bruising along Root’s back.

“What happened here?” she asked, prodding gently.

Root grinned at her over one shoulder. “Honestly? I was wearing some heels that were a bit too aggressive even for me and I managed to fall down a flight of stairs. Mostly on purpose, though, and no real damage done. Also it got the attention of everyone in the immediate area which was what I was aiming for.”

“You’re a disaster, you know that, right?” Shaw asked. And brushed Root’s hair aside so she could examine her shoulder.

There was a white cotton gauze square taped over the wound and Shaw peeled it back. The wound looked like it had healed pretty well. She suspected Root only left the bandage on to keep it from rubbing against her clothes. She patted it back into place.

“Any other injuries I should know about?”

“Mmm, no, not unless you’d like to add some?” Root grinned up at her.

“You really don’t give up, do you?” Shaw asked. She was smiling too now.

“Not when it comes to you,” Root replied and that was more serious than Shaw wanted to get so she kissed her to shut her up, one hand fisted in her hair.

Root snaked one arm back and around Shaw’s hips to pull her forward and around as they broke the kiss off. Root slid her fingers into the belt loops on Shaw’s pants and pulled lightly on them. She got the message and sank into Root’s lap, straddling her.

Root crept her hands under her shirt and splayed them across her back. They were freezing and Shaw twitched a little at the sensation. It figured that it had finally started getting warm out and Root had ice-cold hands.

“You miss me, sweetie?” Root asked, removing her offending cold hands from Shaw’s back to ball them up into the collar of Shaw’s button down and pull her forward for another rough kiss.

“No,” Shaw said as soon as she was able to. “Hard to find decent hook-ups while hiding from an evil AI is all.”

Root was trying to unbutton her shirt but she interrupted her by pulling Root’s shirt up over her head so she had to lift the one arm still in its sleeve. Satisfied, Shaw leaned in to kiss and bite along Root’s neck, before running her tongue along her collar bone.

She almost yelped in surprise when Root stood up, suddenly, wrapping her arms under Shaw so she was carrying her.

“Root. Put me down. Now.” She did _not_ get carried. Not unless she was bleeding out on the ground and had no better options.

“I was going to carry you to bed, though,” Root said, looking up at her innocently from under her eyelashes.

“Unless you want me to strangle you in the not fun way, put me down.”

Root acquiesced with only a minimal amount of pouting and carefully eased her down.

Shaw took a step back, glaring. Root only stood there smiling at her in her bra and jeans, her hair disheveled, and her lips swollen from kissing. It was a good look on her. Shaw decided she could be magnanimous and forgive a little manhandling under the circumstances.

“Come on then." She grabbed Root’s wrist and tugged her after her towards the little hall leading to her room.

Root stopped her part way by wrapping her arms around her from behind and pulling her up against her. She leaned down to bite gently on one earlobe.

“Be honest, Sameen. Did you miss me?” Her breath was hot against Shaw’s ear.

“Sure, Root. If that’s what you wanna hear. I missed you. Okay? Now let’s go or I’m gonna kick you out and find someone else.”

Root released her, looking pleased.

“There’s no one else like me, Shaw. Or you. We’re unique. Haven’t you figured that out?”

Well, she definitely had a point there.

 

* * *

 

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you blow up a car right outside of Time Square?” Shaw asked Reese in disbelief.

“Well you said you had something else to take care of. Next time I’ll let you almost die instead.”

She rolled her eyes and let it go. They both had a lot of work to do in the subtlety department. She turned to look out the window of Reese’s car which was parked in a fairly rundown neighborhood.

“So this gang who’s holed up in there, they took Hasan’s kid?” Shaw gestured at the shady-looking corner building with darkened windows.

“Their mistake.”

“And that’s what the grenade launcher is for?” Shaw asked, gesturing at the back seat.

Reese smiled innocently. “Seemed like a good idea.”

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. Okay, maybe Reese had a lot more work to do on subtlety than she did.

“We _cannot_ go around shooting grenades through windows in the middle of the day, Reese. That sort of thing gets noticed.”

“I brought a ski mask.” Reese looked disappointed.

“Hope you brought two.” Shaw sighed. “Okay, so, place like that, low likelihood they have cameras inside. Probably exactly the type of thing they don’t want. Instead of standing out on the street and shooting a flash grenade through a window, why don’t we just chuck one in the door? Discreetly. Then we can go in and see if anyone knows anything.”

“That sounds less fun.”

He was kidding so she settled for giving him a look, though she tended to agree with his sentiment: grenade launchers were way more fun.

“Keeping all the disruptions inside the bar will keep us safer. Ready to do this?”

Reese tossed her a mask. “Beyond ready.”

They were inside moments after the flash grenade went off. The inhabitants of the bar were mostly on the ground, but a few in the back who hadn’t been as affected were coming towards them.

Shaw and Reese exchanged a glance and fired on them simultaneously. Five men went down with bullets in their kneecaps (one unfortunate man, Shaw noticed in amusement, got two bullets in one knee due to their over-enthusiastic shooting spree).

One man on the floor near Shaw tried to get up. She grabbed a beer bottle off a table and casually smashed it over his head. He crumpled back to the ground.

“Well, that’s the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” Shaw said as Reese pulled a stunned but mostly-conscious man off the floor and slammed him into a bar. “Wish they’d put up a bit more of a fight, though.”

“It’s okay,” Reese said, pressing the side of the man’s face into the bar. “Our friend here is going to tell us everything he knows.” He leaned down close to the man’s ear. “Trust me, you want to tell me because I’m the nice one here. You really don’t want me to hand you over to my associate.”

Shaw pulled out the baton she’d shoved in her belt, flicking her wrist to make it shoot out to its full length and slamming it into the bar next to the man.

“Don’t hurt me! I’ll tell you everything I know!” the man yelled, still struggling to get away.

Shaw and Reese exchanged a look over his head, smiling behind their masks.

It was good to be back.

They left the bar a few minutes later, tucking weapons away as they hit the sidewalk.

“I think Elias may be able to help us out with this heroin shipment. Sounds like it's something he'd know about,” Reese said, shaking his fist out.

They climbed back into the car.

“I owe him a favor so I’d rather not go with you to see him,” Shaw replied. She wasn’t ready to have that favor called in just yet, especially not when they were going to ask him for more help. “I’m gonna go see if Root can help out with this whole network that Hasan is building. Might be a good backup plan in case you can’t get to the kid.”

“Root? You’ve seen Root?”

“Yeah she showed up last night with enough cocaine to start her own industry.”

“Sounds like Root,” Reese said. It was hardly the weirdest thing she’d done.

“I’ll see if I can’t twist her arm into helping--” Though Root would probably enjoy having her arm twisted way too much. “--and then I’ll come meet up with you when you go after the Brotherhood’s house.”

“You’re not a cop so you can’t be on the ground where you could be seen,” Reese pointed out. “Wanna give me some sniping cover?”

“Hell, yes.”

Shaw grinned. All things considered, it hadn’t been a bad couple of days.

 

* * *

 

“Home sweet home,” Root said as they came down the steps into the subway.

“It’s not bad for a secret base, I guess,” Shaw agreed following her in.

Root smiled at her and went to check on the computer setup she’d pieced together in what felt like another lifetime now. In some ways maybe it was.

“Reese almost here?” Shaw followed her into the subway car and sprawled onto one of the row of seats.

Root waited to see if the Machine was feeling up to sharing Reese’s location with her and had to hold back a relieved sigh when She did. She hadn’t realized how the Machine had filled every single second of her waking life with sound until She hadn’t anymore. There was no more painting the world with notes and random statistics and facts getting whispered in her ear. Now it was short, brief statements or a few cautious notes whenever She felt it necessary.

“He’s dropped off that kid you two rescued from the Brotherhood and he’s on his way now.”

“Leave it to Reese to get on yet another gang’s bad side.” Shaw shook her head. “Way to go, John.”

Root only chuckled. She wished the Machine could talk freely, fill her in on this gang. They didn’t need any more enemies.

“That network you helped Hasan fix,” Shaw said, thoughtfully. “You think that’s something we could use?”

Root pursed her lips. “It’s a mesh network using Voice Over Internet Protocol. There’s definitely some possibilities to look into there. I’ll see what I can do.” It wouldn't be of much use outside the city, but it had potential.

“You guys down here?” Reese’s voice echoed through the subway.

“Over here.” Shaw got up and went to meet him.

Root heard the sound of nails skittering across the platform.

“Bear!”

The obvious joy in Shaw’s voice made Root smile. She got up and walked onto the platform, her smiling widening at the sight of Shaw on her knees enthusiastically petting the big dog all over. She still couldn't get over the surge of relief she felt every time she looked at Shaw.

She'd known through the Machine and Zoe that Shaw was fine, but seeing her was so much better. She'd thought she'd been prepared to miss Shaw, but she hadn't been able to imagine how much it would hurt. And maybe it had been nice to hear that Shaw had missed her, too, but it would have been better if neither of them had been put in a situation where they had to miss each other.

Well, she'd never had any illusions about the universe being fair.

“Hey Root,” Reese said, also smiling over Shaw and the dog. They’d talked over the phone while she was fixing Hasan’s communication system, but she hadn’t seen him in person yet.

“How’s life as a detective?” she asked.

John pulled the side of his suit back to flash the badge clipped on his waist.

“I feel all official now,” he said.

“Please,” Root said dismissively. “I have like ten badges.”

“More importantly than your new-found power trip and Root’s kleptomania, fill me in on what happened to Finch already. I’m tired of being given the runaround,” Shaw said as she straightened up.

Bear left her side and trotted over to Root, his tail wagging. She reached down to scratch him behind the ears, surprised and a little bit touched that the dog seemed happy to see her. She was never completely sure of herself around animals. It wasn’t that she disliked them (quite the opposite, she thought most were probably fundamentally more worthy of life than humanity), but she hadn’t had a lot of experience with them.

The smile had left Reese’s face at Shaw’s question. He looked like he was going to remain stubbornly silent for a moment, but then he sighed.

“Not much to tell. He’s alright and somewhere safe. Doesn’t want to be involved in any of this anymore. Not now anyway.”

“That’s it?” Shaw looked disgusted. “I feel like both of you are tiptoeing around some dark secret I’m not allowed to know about.”

“I genuinely don’t know more than I’ve told you,” Root protested. Finch hadn’t been interested in talking to the Machine or even talking to Reese until they’d been out of Her reach.

“Finch was…” Reese sighed again and went over to sit in one of the chairs that they’d scavenged for the place. Shaw followed him to sit on the edge of a table while Root chose to sit on the dubiously clean floor and play with Bear’s ears, intrigued by this new level of companionship the dog had for her. She wondered if it was partly because she probably smelled like Shaw.

“Decima forced Finch to work on Samaritan’s code for them,” Reese said after taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

“Harold would never…” Root started to say, and then stopped herself at the look Reese shot her.

“They shot people in front of him until he agreed to help. One an hour. Threatened to start killing kids next. Apparently they were really keen on having someone with extensive AI knowledge beef up some of Samaritan’s more antiquated code.”

“Yeah, I can see Finch not standing for that,” Shaw said, thoughtfully.

Root felt sick. While that particular method wouldn’t have worked on her she could imagine the effect it must have had on Harold. Hell, she'd done something similar to him once. It would be like if someone had made her watch…. Her eyes flicked to Shaw and away again. Everyone had a limit.

“So you can understand why he wants nothing to do with any of this now, then,” Reese said heavily. “He's completely mentally exhausted and is worried that whatever he does is only going to make things worse. Told me we should get out of it, too.”

“But he’s safe wherever he is?” Shaw asked.

Reese nodded. “That contingency plan Root gave me had the address of a safe-house. Big place in the middle of nowhere, has a delivery service bring supplies once a week. He’ll be okay there.”

“When he was working on Samaritan’s code…” Root was almost afraid to press the matter, but it was important. “Is there anything we could use? Any hint he can give us?”

Reese looked at her for what felt like an eternity, his gaze piercing. She wanted to shift uncomfortably under it but made herself sit still, meet his stare with her own. Finally he grunted and pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it one-handed and saw that it was a small usb drive.

“During the two days I was there with him, Finch did some work on a laptop. I don’t know exactly what it is, but he said it might help.”

“And he trusted me enough to give me this?” Root asked. She and Harold hadn’t been on very good terms before he’d been taken.

Reese was the one to look uncomfortable now. “No. He was actually fairly upset to hear how much we’d been working with you. He told me to only give you that if we had no other choice and I was completely convinced of your motives.”

“So why did you give it to her?” Shaw asked, looking mildly amused.

Reese shrugged. “Because I trust her and I’d rather we have as many options possible from the get-go instead of waiting until it’s too late.”

Root smiled but quickly hid it by leaning over to fuss with Bear. The dog had laid down and put his head in her lap and she was seriously considering dog-napping him to bring along on missions with her more often.

“Root, you gonna check this code out or are you gonna play with the dog all day?” Shaw asked.

“I will when I have a safe laptop to look at it on,” she said.

“What’s wrong with all these?” Shaw asked waving an arm at the various computers spread out across the subway.

“They all have internet connections. Bluetooth, wifi. Just because they're off doesn't mean they're safe.”

“So?”

Root sighed. She’d been hoping to avoid this part of the conversation, at least in front of John.

“I’m not going to look at it on any computer that the Machine can access. Not yet. I'll find a laptop I can strip the hardware out of.”

Reese look puzzled. “You don’t trust the Machine?”

“I trust the Machine implicitly,” Root said, carefully.

“You don’t trust Finch.” Shaw had caught on.

“You think Finch put something on there that could hurt the Machine?” Reese asked. He didn’t sound angry, more bewildered.

“Honestly? No. But I can’t take that risk right now and it’s possible he did. Harold has a lot of reasons to hate AIs right now. Maybe he’d think taking one of them out was a good move.”

She was surprised Reese wasn’t furiously defending Finch, but maybe those two days he’d spent with him had given him a reason to think it might be true. All the more reason to play it safe.

“Well, let’s get out of here and get you a laptop,” Shaw said, hopping off the desk. Bear got up and trotted over to her immediately. Root gave up any half-baked ideas of taking Bear along with her sometime; he might be her friend now, but he was clearly Shaw’s dog.

“Reese, you meet me at the townhouse in two nights if we don’t get another number first,” Shaw continued. “Let’s keep switching up which place we meet at. Bring Fusco.”

Reese nodded. “You keeping Bear tonight?”

“For now,” Shaw said. “Not sure what I’ll do with him when I’m out keeping Zoe safe from lecherous fashion disasters again.”

“I may be in town for the next week or two,” Root said. “I could watch him while you’re out.”

“Where’re you staying?” Shaw asked, suspiciously. “Does it allow pets?”

“Not sure yet. She’ll find me something.”

Shaw frowned. “That’s dumb. Just crash on my couch again. That way you can watch the dog without any problem.”

Root saw Reese looking back and forth between them with an amused smile.

“As long as you don’t mind me staying up all night on my laptop.” If Harold’s present panned out even a tiny bit she was going to be very busy.

“If the typing wakes me up I’ll lock you on the fire escape.”

Reese was openly grinning now.

Root stood up and dusted herself off while Shaw clipped Bear’s leash on.

“Two days, Reese,” Shaw said again.

“I’ll be there.”

Root left the subway with Shaw and Bear, feeling a lot more hopeful than she had in days. Maybe whatever Finch had provided would give them something to fight back with.

Shaw let her hold Bear’s leash part of the walk back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so far behind on writing. Stupid election is destroying my focus. So the next chapter might be in a week rather than on Thursday, but I'll see if I can make it happen. The video game I've been waiting for all year is also coming out this week, so.... I'll try my best though.
> 
> I try really hard to respond to all comments because it's my way of saying thank you for commenting, but I didn't get a chance to for the last chapter yet. I still definitely read them and greatly appreciated them and I'll try to respond tonight.
> 
> As you may have noticed Finch still isn't around. I figured Decima/Samaritan would probably kill him so I wanted to get him out of there, but I also didn't want him directly back in. His rescue will change some things though.
> 
> This is now the longest thing I've written, which I did not intend to happen. Whoops.
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [In Darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/26881884) rated E.


	16. A Favor For Elias

 

“Hey, Shaw, how’s your day going?”

“You called to ask me how my day's going? What gives, Reese?”

“No, I called to tell you that the two gentlemen pointing guns at me have politely requested our presence at a meeting with Carl Elias.”

“Well, tell them we’d be delighted to attend. Politely, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”

 

* * *

 

“I’d like to start out by apologizing for my colleagues,” Carl Elias said, motioning for Shaw and Reese to be seated at the table in the dim basement room he’d specified as the location for their meeting.

Shaw looked around the room one last time before sitting down. She didn’t really think Elias had brought them here to kill them, that wouldn’t have made any sense, but she didn’t trust him either. Reese sat down stiffly in the chair to her right.

“They misinterpreted my request to present you with a polite invitation to this meeting, but I think it’s fair to say they’ve seen the error of their ways,” Elias continued.

“Nothing some physical therapy won’t cure,” Reese said with a small fake smile.

“Of course,” Elias said. His smile was equally fake. “Well, let’s put this whole thing behind us and get down to what’s important.”

“Sure thing, _Carl_ ,” Shaw said, “Want to tell you what’s so important you had to send two armed goons after John in broad daylight?”

“I believe you already know the answer to that, Ms. Shaw. There’s the matter of a favor owed.”

Shaw held back an eye-roll at the ‘Ms. Shaw’ bit. Getting that from Finch had been more than enough. Did he really think using titles made him sound more sincere?

“Yeah, I owe you from the intel you gave us on Vigilance. I take it you’re calling that in?”

One of Elias’s better-dressed thugs came forward with a bottle of wine and three crystal glasses. He made a big show of uncorking the bottle with an elegant twist of his wrist before filling the glasses.

“Please,” Elias said, motioning at the glasses.

Shaw didn’t even glance at hers; no way was she drinking anything alcoholic right now. Or anything Elias offered them in general.

“I’m technically on duty,” Reese said, moving his jacket aside to flash his badge.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” Elias said.

Shaw could almost see the gears turning inside his head.

“What’d you want from us, Elias?” she asked, getting impatient. The meeting she’d ditched Zoe at hadn’t been particularly interesting but it had been at a restaurant with very good food.

“A number of years ago one of my associates, a man named Angelo Russo tried to start his own, ah, business on the side. It happens from time to time.”

Shaw snorted. “Yeah, and it usually ends up with the person trying to kill their former boss and take over their interests.”

Elias nodded. “As you say. Things got a little unpleasant for awhile but when the smoke cleared Russo ended up escaping into a prison sentence and I chose not to pursue him at the time.”

“And I bet you’re regretting that decision now,” Reese said. He was toying with the stem on the wine glass he had declined to drink from.

“Russo got out of prison a week ago and a small number of his former supporters came out of the woodwork which was apparently made him feel comfortable enough to kidnap my godson.”

“You have a godson?” Shaw asked, unable to keep the smile from crawling across her face. “That makes you the godfa…” Reese elbowed her.

“I mean, uh, that’s terrible,” Shaw quickly covered.

“Have you received any demands?” Reese asked, trying to move the topic along.

“Obviously they’ve asked me to turn myself and my organization over to them.”

“How old is this godson?” Shaw asked, completely back to business now.

“His name is Marco Phillips. He turned nine recently.” Elias sipped his wine. “I have my entire organization out looking for him right now, but wherever Russo has holed up we can’t find him.”

“And you think we can?” Reese asked glancing over at Shaw with an expression she interpreted as “can we?”.

“Your little team is very good at saving people in danger. Unbelievably good at it, in fact. Someday you’ll have to tell me how you do it.”

Shaw wasn’t completely sure if this was something they could pull off the way Elias seemed to think they could. Generally the Machine only supplied them with a number and they had to do all the research and legwork. Sometimes Root got more details through her connection, but Shaw didn’t think she could just request someone’s location and get it. Not unless more of Finch’s safeguards were gone. Which was an interesting thought.

“If we find where the kid is, and that’s a big if, what do you want us to do? Tell you where he is or go get him back?”

“Giving me his location will be more than sufficient,” Elias said. “I have people who can handle this sort of thing.”

“We’ll look into it,” Shaw announced, standing up. “But we need to go look into it somewhere not here.”

Reese stood up as well, abandoning his untouched wine. He casually turned a little to observe the rest of the room while Shaw remained focused on Elias.

“I assume I don’t need to impress on you that this is a time-sensitive matter?” Elias asked.

“You have a deadline from Russo?” Shaw asked.

“He’s calling back at six tonight to hear my answer.”

It was about two pm right now by Shaw’s estimate. That didn’t give them a huge amount of time.

“We’d better get moving then,” she said.

Neither she nor Reese said anything when they collected their weapons and phones and left. Once they were out on the street she turned to him.

“Subway. Fast.”

He nodded and set off down the street, walking quickly. She’d find a different way back to keep them from being seen together too much. On the way she’d have to text Zoe and let her know she’d be busy the rest of the day. And also call Root and see if she could pry some information out of her Machine.

She didn’t like that a kid was in danger, but at least things were getting interesting again.

 

* * *

 

“Heard you were looking for me.”

Reese looked up when he heard Root’s voice.

“What’re you supposed to be?” he asked, taking in her outfit.

“Drug dealer still, I’m afraid,” Root replied, pulling at the hem of her faded over-sized t-shirt. “Surprisingly dull, but the lack of a dress code is refreshing.”

“You smell like weed.” Shaw had come over to inspect Root and was wrinkling her nose at her, clearly amused.

“I was the collateral damage of someone else’s good time,” Root said, patting Shaw on the shoulder before strolling over to the table in the middle of the platform, sinking into a chair, and propping her feet up on the table.

“We’re trying to find a kid, Marco Phillips. Some mob asshat named Angelo Russo kidnapped him.” Shaw crossed to the table while talking and took a seat at the other end. Reese moved from where he’d been leaning against the subway car to sit next to her.

“Marco Phillips,” Root repeated. “His number didn’t come up.”

“No, he’s Elias’s godson,” Reese filled in.

This close he could appreciate what Shaw had meant about Root smelling like weed. He wondered what Root would be like stoned. Or Shaw for that matter.

“And Shaw owes Elias a favor,” Root said, putting the pieces together.

“Yeah, but it’s also a kid,” Shaw said defensively.

Reese was fairly sure she would have helped even if she hadn’t owed Elias a favor. Shaw claimed to not have much use for kids, and was clearly never sure how to act around them, but she didn’t hurt kids and she didn’t let other people either.

“Not the kid’s fault his godfather is some mob boss,” Shaw muttered.

Reese missed whatever expression it was that Root had in response but he got a good look at Shaw’s eye roll.

“We’re kind of pressed for time here,” he said, trying to catch Root’s eye. “Any help you or the Machine could give us would be great.”

“We’ve already gone through everything we could find on the Phillips family and Russo and his crew but there’s nothing promising enough to waste time on unless we have no other options,” Shaw elaborated.

She grabbed a piece of paper that was sitting on the table and pushed it over to Root.

“These are some of the places Russo’s guys used to use before he got locked up. If the Machine can narrow it down to a manageable number for us we can take over from there.”

Root dropped her feet to the floor, picked the paper up, and looked it over.

“Anything?” Shaw asked impatiently after a few seconds.

Root dropped the paper back to the table, picked up a pen, and circled three of the addresses listed on it.

“These three buildings are all within a block or two of each other. She’s seen Russo in that area recently.”

“Any sign of Marco?” Reese asked.

Root shook her head. “No, but that’s not really surprising, is it?”

It wasn’t. If they were abducting a kid they weren’t going to haul him around in the open. Strangers were more likely to get involved in things that weren’t their business if a kid was involved. They’d probably been pretty careful about keeping him hidden when moving him.

“That’s not too far from here,” Shaw said. She’d opened a laptop on the table and was using google maps to look at their targets. “We should go check this out.”

Reese almost agreed without saying anything, but without Finch there he and Shaw had to take turns trying to be the voice of reason and he figured this one was his turn.

“We’re supposed to give Elias this information, not get ourselves involved,” he reminded her.

“Better chance of a small stealth group getting in there and getting to the kid. A group of Elias’s guys storms the building there’s a chance someone kills the kid.” Shaw stood up and stretched. “Plus, I trust us more.”

“Agreed.” Reese got up and went to go fetch his suit jacket from where he’d left it in the subway car.

“You coming with us?” Shaw asked Root as Reese returned to the table.

Root shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve got a hot date already.”

“With your supplier?” Shaw asked, looking scornful.

Root chuckled and reached out to bop Shaw on the nose which earned her a look of pure murder.

“No, She’s been watching someone She thinks might be a Samaritan agent, but they keep vanishing and She wants me to go keep an eye on them for a bit.”

“Samaritan? Is that smart?” Reese asked before he could stop himself.

He’d been a little unsure of himself around Root since she’d gotten back. There was the Root he knew and more or less trusted, and then there was how Harold talked about her, stirring up memories of the angry, powerful woman full of bitterness and rage, with a vast potential for destruction that he’d first encountered. Had she changed or was she only being held in check by the now-tenuous influence of the Machine? And did it actually matter?

His gut had told him to give her the drive from Finch, and he didn’t regret that. Also, Shaw had good instincts for people, as he constantly reminded himself when he started down this line of thought, and Root’s infatuation with her was about as subtle as getting hit in the face with a brick. Root wouldn’t do anything to put Shaw at risk and Shaw wouldn’t trust Root if she didn’t deserve it.

And even if he didn’t always agree with her she’d earned his respect.

Finch hadn’t been here, hadn’t seen everything that she’d done. It had been a point of contention between them.

“I’m only doing recon,” Root assured him, getting up and patting him on the shoulder in a way that was probably supposed to be reassuring. “The Machine wants to find out a little more about her before we make any more exciting plans.”

“She?” Shaw asked. “Don’t think we’ve seen a female Decima agent before. Samaritan must be diversifying its staff.” She apparently found this very amusing.

“The Machine seems to think she’s pretty important, too,” Root said slipping past them to wander further down the platform.

“Gonna kill her if she is?” Shaw asked. She’d gotten up and was checking her weapons.

Root shrugged. “If She asks me to.”

This had been the other thing Finch had been very worried about, understandably. The Machine had done things that shouldn’t have been possible with Finch’s original safeguards.

Admittedly the Machine shouldn’t have been able to communicate with Root the way it did, either, but Finch thought it might have progressed beyond that. The death of the congressman had especially upset him. He’d said that if it weren’t for the threat of Samaritan he’d recommend destroying the Machine for everyone’s safety.

Reese had spent a lot of time since then wondering what he’d do if it ever came down to that. And what Shaw would do. Root had wandered back over to Shaw and they were talking together quietly, though it didn’t look like it was about anything serious from their expressions. He didn’t think Shaw’s...whatever she wanted to call it...with Root would keep her from taking the course of action she thought was best, but ever since the time she’d spoken to the Machine there was a subtle change in the way she talked about it, a change that went beyond just pronouns.

“Reese.”

Shaw’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Call Fusco,” she said. “See if he can back us up on this. We could use another gun.” She was absent-mindedly attempting to brush Root’s hands off of her arm without much success.

“He’s already covering for me,” Reese pointed out. “Not sure if he’s going to be able to sneak out as well.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

Root released Shaw’s arm and started towards the stairs. “I need to take off now. You kids have fun.”

Shaw only grunted in response.

After Root left, Reese called Fusco who agreed to help about half a second after he mentioned a kid was involved.

“Fusco’s on his way,” Reese said as he hung up.

“Meeting us there, I hope,” Shaw said, tucking a gun away behind her back. “We need to go now.”

“I gave him the general area where the buildings are. He’s not that far out so he’ll probably be there by the time we get a look at all the buildings.”

Shaw nodded and led the way out of the subway.

“Root still staying with you?” Reese asked as they went up the stairs.

Shaw looked sharply at him. “Yeah,” she said, voice full of suspicion. “Why?”

“Was wondering how she was doing with whatever it was Finch gave her on that drive.”

Shaw stopped glaring. “Whenever she’s not out doing whatever the hell she’s been up to she sits on her laptop and mutters to herself, or to the Machine maybe. Could probably set off a grenade right in her face and she wouldn’t notice.”

“So there’s something useful on there?” He knew it was too much to ask that they could be done with Samaritan quickly or easily, but he’d still been hoping there was some sort of magical switch they could flip with whatever Finch had given them.

“I’m not sure,” Shaw admitted. “And I don’t think Root is either. Not yet anyway. She said she’d tell me as soon as there was something to tell.”

“You don’t think she’s holding anything back then?”

Shaw snorted. “It’s Root. Of course she’s holding something back. But I don’t think she’s lying either. If she gets something solid she’ll tell us.”

For a traitorous second Reese wished he hadn’t mentioned Root to Finch at all. His loyalty lay with Finch, but he didn’t agree with his friend’s dislike of her. And clearly Finch wasn’t completely sure either or he wouldn’t have given him the drive at all. Maybe there was some hope for reconciliation there.

“Should split up now,” Shaw said as they got up onto the busy street. “It’s about a ten minute walk from here. Meet you there.”

“See you there.”

 

* * *

 

“You seeing this, Reese?” Shaw watched the three men entering the building across from the coffee shop she was pretending to be interested in.

“Our new friends over there were definitely armed,” Reese’s voice said over the comlink.

“Glad you two found something, this place is dead,” Fusco’s voice cut in.

Since it was already after four pm, they’d split up, one person per building, to do a quick assessment on the likelihood of each location being where the kid was being kept. Reese’s building now housed an Apple store so they’d ruled that out. That left her building or Fusco’s.

“Doesn’t mean it’s the wrong building though,” Reese pointed out.

Shaw could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at the menu in the window of a restaurant on the corner opposite hers.

“What’s our move then?” Fusco asked.

“We should…” Shaw started.

“Wait a sec,” Fusco cut in.

She waited, attempting to be patient, glancing over at her building every few seconds.

“Whole buncha armed guys just went into this building, too. Eight I think. Thought you said this guy didn’t have that many people working for him?”

“That’s what Elias told us,” Reese said. “Doesn’t mean it was true.”

“Good point,” Fusco agreed.

Shaw took one last glance at the building and made up her mind.

“Reese, go help Fusco sweep that building. We’ve seen more hostiles there so it gets two people. I’ll deal with this one.”

“On my way,” Reese said.

She saw him across the street, moving away towards Fusco.

“Stay in contact whenever it’s safe,” she reminded them.

The building she’d ended up with was theoretically abandoned, though that obviously wasn’t the case since she’d seen three men enter it a short time ago. There was only one door that wasn’t completely boarded up and it was locked up. She could probably have picked the lock, but there was no discreet way to do that on a street with this much foot traffic and it would definitely be on camera.

She headed around the side of the building and found a narrow alley running behind it and sure enough a metal fire-escape. Like most fire escapes in the city the ladder was up way too high for any human to be able to reach it without assistance, and there was no convenient dumpster to stand on either.

What there was, however, was a suspiciously splintery looking plank of half-rotted wood lying further along the alley. She did a quick assessment in her head and decided it was long enough to reach the bottom rung of the ladder, but it was still a flat plank so she wouldn’t be able to get the proper leverage to pull the ladder down.

She considered going back and picking the lock on the front door and hoping for the best, but as much as time was sensitive here she also didn’t want to do anything to alert the people inside or draw attention from outsiders. Or Samaritan. She walked out of the alley and glanced up and down the street. Unsurprisingly there was a Duane Reade on the corner. She wondered if there were more of them than Starbucks in the city. It was probably a toss-up.

She got what she needed from the drug store, getting lucky that there was almost no line, and headed back to the alley where she dumped the contents of her bag out on the ground near the wooden plank and went to work.

“Shaw, we’re in,” Reese’s voice came over the comlink. “Found a door around the back and picked the lock. Think there’s still tenants in this apartment building though. Might take us a bit to track down our guys.”

“Maybe they’ve got some security camera in the lobby we can look at the feeds for,” Fusco suggested. “Flash our badges.”

“I keep forgetting I can do that now. How’re things over there?” Reese asked.

Shaw used her teeth to tear a piece of duct tape off the roll.

“I’m doing some arts and crafts.” She grinned imagining the confused faces the boys were probably making.

“That sounds...fun?” Reese ventured cautiously.

“I know how to party,” Shaw said. “Let me know how the security footage thing goes.”

“You got it.”

She killed the line and looked down at her handiwork. She’d bought one of those cheap umbrellas they sold everywhere in the city. They were total shit and blew inside out in even a slight breeze, but the handles were hook-shaped which was what she’d been going for. She’d taped the body of the umbrella very securely to one end of the board so the hook was sticking out.

“Let’s see if I’m as clever as I think I am,” she said softly to herself.

The side street that the alley was off of was much less populated than the street the entrance was on and most people walking by weren’t glancing into the alley, but she still wanted to do this as fast as she could.

She grabbed the last thing she’d bought, a pair of thick winter gloves, which had been in stock despite the fact it was almost summer, and pulled them on before attempting to pick up the board. No need to get her fingers full of splinters for no reason. It took her two tries to get the umbrella hook to drop over the bottom rung of the ladder, but it slipped into place.

She flipped her grip on the board and pulled down with all her strength. The ladder made an upsetting creaking noise but gave under the pressure. She yanked down hard, figuring one quick loud noise was better than dragging it out over time. Less chances that someone would hear.

The ladder didn’t come all the way to the ground, but it was far enough down that she was able to jump up and swing herself onto it. She climbed up and pulled herself onto the first balcony, taking her gloves off and shoving them in a pocket. A glance through the windows showed her a room full of dust-covered stacks of chairs. It didn’t look like anyone had been there in ages.

The next two floors were the same, but she heard noises as she approached what should have been the fifth floor and slowed down, creeping as quietly as possible to the top of the stairs. She could only pick up snatches of voices through the window and probably only because there was a piece of glass missing from one of them.

“...Russo said we should take him with…”

“...don’t know anything yet....”

“...Elias is gonna kill us…”

She heard footsteps moving away from the window and then silence. After a count of three she poked her head up and risked a quick glance through the window. The room inside was a lot like the ones of every other floor, empty of human activity and full of random stored furniture, but this one had footprints all over the dust on the floor.

“Found some of them,” she told Reese and Fusco. “Gonna go make friends.”

“Tell them we said hi,” Reese replied.

“You guys are enjoying this way too much,” Fusco grumbled.

Shaw grinned as she killed the line and tested one of the windows to see if she could slide it open. It was locked, but the lock was pretty simple and she popped it open easily with the folding knife she kept in her pocket. She slipped into the room and dropped to the ground silently, drawing her gun as soon as she settled. She fished a silencer out of a pocket and screwed in onto the gun. Didn’t hurt to be careful.

She stayed still for a minute, listening for any noises that would give her a clue to how many others there were and where the were. There were faint voices coming from somewhere ahead of her and to the left. Since there were no doors in the doorframes here, so she positioned herself on one side of the frame and used the small compact mirror she’d taken to carrying with her for just these occasions to get a look around the corner at the hall. Clear.

There were two rooms to the left, one on either side of the hall and the voices were coming from the furthest one which was on the right. She moved forward as quietly as possible and paused a step or two before the doorframe on the left, using her mirror again to get a look. She moved to stand in the doorway and confirm what she’d seen.

Sitting in a chair in the corner was a kid who had to be Marco Phillips, tied up and with tape across his mouth. He stared at her with wide, frightened eyes and she put a finger up to her lips. It wasn’t that he could really make noise but it was the only thing she could think to do that might be vaguely reassuring.

When the voices from down the hall suddenly stopped she turned back to the hall, using the doorframe as cover and peering around. A man was coming out of the far door and froze when he saw her, hand reaching for his gun.

She shot him in the arm and then the knee and he crumpled to the ground. There were sounds of more people approaching, probably alerted by either the muffled shots or the sound of the man falling over. Shaw cursed softly.

The first two men into the hallway were too reckless and she took them down easily before they got a grasp of the situation. The next man, however, was using the doorframe for cover the same way she was. They exchanged a few shots but Shaw didn’t want to waste too much ammo, especially if they had backup coming.

She pulled out one of the dumb gloves she’d bought at the convenience store and tossed it down the hall past the door, already moving into the hall to hug the right wall, gun aimed. The guy wouldn’t be stupid enough to shoot at a glove or stick his head out, but he would look at it and she’d counted on that second of delay to get her across the hall.

When the man swung back around he was aiming at the door where she’d been and she had all the time in the world to shoot him in the shoulder, and then, when he staggered forward a step, the knee. He joined his friends on the ground.

She moved up the hall, not hearing anyone else, but not getting careless either, and kicked all the weapons away without looking down. She led with her gun around the doorframe of the final room. Empty.

“That was a pretty sad showing,” she told the men groaning on the ground. “Amateur hour.”

To be safe she knocked the men out and checked the other end of the hall as well, but there was only a storage closet and another empty room there.

“Reese, I got the kid,” she said, activating her comlink as she went back to where she’d left Marco.

“Reese is a little busy right now,” Fusco responded. “But does that mean we can get outta here?” There was a lot of noise in the background, not gunfire, but possibly a brawl.

“Yeah, get out of there. We need to get this kid back to Elias fast.”

She walked back into the room where Marco was. His whole face had gone deathly pale and he was shaking.

“Hey, Marco, right? I’m not here to hurt you,” she said, approaching slowly. “I’m a, uh, friend of Carl Elias. You know him, right?”

The kid nodded and the level of terror in his eyes might have gone down a little, though it went right back up when she pulled her knife back out. She cursed at herself for not realizing that would probably freak him out. Fear wasn’t her thing and most of the people she associated with wouldn’t have batted an eye at a little knife. But this was a kid.

“Cutting you free,” she explained. He’d been tied up with some sort of nylon rope, which she sliced through easily before removing the tape from his mouth.

“Uncle Carl sent you?” the kid asked, still looking terrified.

Uncle Carl. Shaw frowned. Kid grew up in danger because the people he trusted had made too many enemies. People like Elias shouldn’t have godsons or kids or nieces or nephews, they should know better.

“Yeah, your uncle Carl sent me. Now let’s get out of here.” She pulled him to his feet and, once she was sure he could walk, headed back towards the hall.

“Did you do that?” Marco asked when they got into the hall, staring wide-eyed at the pile of unconscious men lying on the ground.

“Yeah.”

Marco looked up at her thoughtfully.

“Cool.”

Shaw looked back at him blankly, unsure how to respond.

“Let’s go,” she finally said and led him back to the fire escape.

 

* * *

 

“You were supposed to give me the location, not go in yourselves,” Elias said. He didn’t look very angry though.

Shaw shrugged. “Made a call. Worked out alright, I’d say.”

She glanced over at where Reese was playing some sort of hand slap game with the kid on the far side of the room.

Elias sighed. “It did, and I’m grateful for Marco’s safe return, of course.”

“You’re mad Russo got away,” Shaw guessed. “Especially since he seems to have quite the following. You didn’t mention that.”

“Because it was none of your concern,” Elias replied, clearly irritated.

Shaw titled her head to one side, studying him. “You’re in a bad position,” she said. “This new gang, the Brotherhood, they’re causing you all sorts of problems and now Russo and his lot are popping up. Bet some of your boys may have gone over to him, too. But you don’t like appearing weak, so you lied.”

Elias didn’t move a muscle for a held moment and then smiled. “Clever. But you’re wrong.”

Shaw doubted that very much, but she also didn’t really give a fuck.

“Guy like you, you should know better,” she said, motioning towards Marco with her head. “There’s a reason people like us do better without kids. Or family.”

Elias looked away. “Marco’s father saved my life once. Good man. When he told me that his only wish was for me to be his child’s godfather I should have said no. But I didn’t.” He looked back up at her with a bitter smile. “Selfish of me, perhaps.”

Shaw chose not to press it further. She’d said her part and it wasn’t her business.

“We’re even now,” she stated to make sure that was clear. “I did a hell of a lot more than give you some information.”

Elias nodded. “Consider your debt paid in full.”

It had been paid in full and with interest in Shaw’s opinion, but she wasn’t sure having the mob owe her a favor was much better than owing them one. She’d rather be done with the whole thing.

She walked away without saying anything else, jerking her head at Reese to tell him it was time to leave. Marco stared at her, eyes huge, but didn’t try to come over much to her relief.

“Marco thinks you’re some sort of movie action star,” Reese told her on their way out. “Second time you’ve impressed a kid. You’ll have a whole fan club if you’re not careful.”

“Shut it, Reese.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw returned home later that evening expecting to find Bear clawing down the walls to get taken out, but when she got into her apartment he was curled up in his dog bed in the living room sound asleep. Root was passed out on the couch, her laptop still open on her stomach though the screen had gone dark.

Shaw stood there for a moment, feeling weirdly out of place in her own apartment. Bear opened his eyes and thumped his tail once or twice but didn’t move otherwise and just like that she was okay again. She walked over and patted him on the head and was rewarded with a sleepy doggy sigh. She then turned to the other slumbering guest in her living room.

She carefully removed the laptop from Root’s stomach and shut it, placing it safely on the coffee table, and as an afterthought took off Root’s glasses and folded them on top of the laptop.

“Sameen?”

When Shaw turned back to Root her eyes were open and she was peering up at her sleepily.

“Go back to sleep.”

“She told me you saved the kid,” Root mumbled, clearly not fully awake.

“Yeah, kid is fine.”

“That’s good. People shouldn’t hurt kids.”

Since Root had expressed on multiple occasions that she had little use for kids it was kind of an odd thing to hear coming from her. Shaw wondered if this had anything to do with Marco Phillips at all or was related to another kid, one from back when Root was too young to help.

“Kids are a weakness to people like Elias,” Shaw said, unsure how much Root was actually comprehending at this stage of wakefulness. “People like us can’t afford family.”

Root looked more awake now and was staring at her in a way that made Shaw shift restlessly. She didn’t leave though.

“All of us who work for the Machine,” Root said, “we can take care of ourselves. And each other. And the Machine protects us, too.”

“And if something happened to one of us? Or all of us?”

“Don’t think I’d like to go back to who I was before all of you,” Root said, which wasn’t exactly an answer, but Shaw thought she got what she was trying to say. That it was worth it. But ‘worth it’ wasn't really a concept that Shaw accepted.

Dragging people into a mess that wasn’t theirs when they couldn’t defend themselves was selfish, but none of that applied to any of them. They’d all be stuck in this mess together whether they cared about each other or not. And she knew she did care even if that didn’t mean the same thing to her as it did to people like Root and Reese. Her not caring wouldn’t keep them safe.

So where did that leave her?

“I’m going to bed,” she said finally.

“Okay, ‘night.” Root was drifting off again.

“Couch really isn’t good for sleeping on long term,” Shaw continued.

Root turned her head to look more closely at her.

“Come on then if you’re coming,” Shaw said and walked away, unable to stay there under Root’s gaze any longer.

They slept on opposite sides of the bed still, but she thought that Root was probably more comfortable with that, too. And waking up in the morning to see Root still passed out on her side of the bed wasn’t bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter I had originally planned didn't want to be written so I wrote this one instead to give myself some time to rework it. I'm almost back on schedule with writing? Kinda? It's getting there. Hoping to post another thursday.
> 
> For anyone confused, Duane Reade is a drug store chain primarily in and around NYC. Like a Walgreens or CVS.


	17. Self-Similar Spirals

 

The second night sleeping in Shaw’s bed was the first time in months that nightmares woke Root up. Fortunately she didn’t thrash around or make any noise this time so Shaw remained sleeping peacefully while she got her breathing under control and let the tattered threads of her dream fade.

She tried unsuccessfully to fall back asleep for about an hour but then gave up and slipped out of the bed as quietly as she could and retreated to the living room. She opened one of the windows and took a few minutes to breath in the tolerably cool night air. It hadn’t hit the point yet where the heat and humidity would seep in even during the night, but it would soon enough.

“I know you can hear me,” she whispered. “And I know you probably can’t answer right now. But…”

She wasn’t sure what she’d been going to say and instead watched a taxi roll by on the street below.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “Harold’s code, it could help, it could be what we need. But if I can even get it to a state where it could be used against Samaritan, it would be really dangerous to all of us to deploy.”

“And I wouldn’t mind if it was just me walking into that, but I think I’d need backup.”

She pressed her head against the screen of the window, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply, listening to the city night noises.

“You know I never thought I'd be that person, the one who gets compromised by their attachment to others. Never really had anyone I cared about after I was twelve. And now….”

Shaw had come home the other night talking about the dangers of having family and friends in their lives and Root's instinct had been to tell her that they were different, that it was what made them strong. But what if she was wrong? What would she do if she lost someone now?

She’d always seen caring about others as a weakness, but now she wasn’t sure if she’d changed her mind or if she’d surrendered to her own failing.

“It’s selfish, I know. They can take care of themselves, probably even better than I can, but I still don’t want to risk them. Even if it means letting the world burn.”

She opened her eyes again and straightened back up, looking back over her shoulder at the darkened living room.

“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m probably a disappointment to you right now.”

The soft trio of soothing notes in her ear made her swallow hard against her throat tightening.

“We’ll think of something, right?”

There wasn’t a response this time, but she wasn’t sure whether that was because it wasn’t safe or because the Machine didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t want to risk you either.”

This time there was the tiniest buzz of static. It was enough.

She closed the window and scooped her laptop up off the coffee table where she’d left it, carrying it to the kitchen counter and sitting on a stool. She opened it up and looked through the code she’d been working on.

She’d established that nothing on the drive Finch had supplied was harmful to the Machine, but she was still working offline. She’d explained to Her most of what she’d found and She’d found a safe time to discuss it with Root, but there was still a lot of work to be done and way too many unknowns.

She made a quick trip back to the coffee table to retrieve her glasses, which actually did help when staring at her screen for long periods of time but that she often forgot to put on, and then wrapped her legs around the stool legs and went to work.

When light from the windows broke her out of her fixation on her work, she sat up, realizing how stiff she’d gotten from being hunched over her laptop all night. According to the little clock on her laptop it was six am which meant she’d been working for three hours. She hadn’t made nearly enough progress.

At six thirty she decided to call it quits for awhile after she managed to type the same subroutine name wrong three times in a row. She stood up stretched before heading back to the bedroom.

Shaw was still sound asleep, curled on her side right where she’d fallen asleep last night. From the few times they’d shared a bed Root had learned that Shaw didn’t move around much in her sleep.

Root let herself look at Shaw’s face, feeling guilty, like she was stealing something that wasn’t hers to take. But there was something so soothing about watching Shaw’s even breathing and how peaceful her face was. It made some of the gut-wrenching anxiety she’d woken up with retreat.

Reluctantly she went over to the bed and shook Shaw’s shoulder gently. Almost instantly Shaw’s hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed Root’s hand around the wrist, hard. It made her inhale with something that wasn’t quite pain.

“Root?” Shaw asked, blinking once or twice. “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty, sweetie. You know if you’re going to grab a girl like that you should at least be nice enough to carry through on it.”

Shaw let go of her wrist and sat up, yawning.

“I’m not awake enough for that.”

She threw the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed, still looking groggy. She’d been out pretty late helping Zoe out with something and had been tired enough when she’d gotten back that she’d actually turned down sex in favor of sleep.

Which made it two nights in a row they’d slept in the same bed without sex being involved. This was probably the only time Root would ever see lack of sex as a positive.

“You asked me to wake you up now if you didn’t wake up on your own,” Root reminded her. She wasn’t sure why Shaw had expected her to be awake this early or hadn’t set an alarm, but Root had asked the Machine to wake her up if She was able to. Of course it hadn’t ended up being necessary.

“Yeah, gotta meet with Reese and Fusco this morning.” Shaw got out of bed and went over to her closet and started looking through it for clothes.

“You have time for breakfast before you see the boys?” Root asked, only staring at her butt a little. She could get used to a routine where she got to stare at Shaw’s butt every morning.

“No eye molestation until at least eight, Root,” Shaw muttered, clearly having seen her in the mirror in the closet.

Root grinned. Totally busted.

“I’ll try to restrain myself. Or you could restrain me instead.”

Shaw groaned and pulled the clothes she’d chosen out of the closet and started changing directly in front of Root. Which was just unfair.

“Breakfast?” Shaw asked when she pulled her shirt down, snapping Root back to reality.

“There’s a place down the street from here that has pancakes.”

“Why do you think I woke up so early?” Shaw asked. “Missing breakfast is the worst. You’d better get dressed or we won’t have time.”

Root had forgotten she was still wearing the boxers and oversized shirt she’d fallen asleep in last night. She hurried to find clothes in the small bag she’d been living out of and change while Shaw wandered out of the room, declining to watch her strip. She was just no fun today.

When Root got into the living room, Shaw was leaning against the kitchen counter drinking a glass of orange juice.

“You stay up all night?” she asked, motioning at Root’s still open laptop with her head.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She was going to regret that later. As much as she’d like to believe otherwise, pulling all-nighters wasn’t as easy as it had been when she was in her twenties.

“Hmph.”

Root went over and put one arm on the counter on either side of Shaw, bracketing her, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

“What was that for?” Shaw asked suspiciously. She didn’t look mad, but like she was considering the possibility of becoming mad.

“Getting it in before I have to leave.” She backed off enough to give Shaw space, figuring she’d worn out her welcome.

“You’re taking off again?”

Root pushed off the counter and shut her laptop, taking it back over to the coffee table and plugging it in to charge for a few minutes before she had to pack it.

“Tonight. I have some errands in the city today but then I’m leaving.” The Machine had told her yesterday but she hadn’t had a chance to tell Shaw.

“Where to?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“Anything to do with that code you’ve been working on?” Shaw rinsed out her glass in the sink.

“No. Not yet.”

She could work on that anywhere. She needed to get all her stuff packed up before she left this morning since she wouldn’t be coming back here later. She’d been putting it off.

“And you have no clue when you’ll be back.” Shaw made it a statement.

Root didn’t respond but instead went back into the bedroom to grab the bag of clothes sitting in a corner. She came back out into the living room and slipped her laptop into a soft case and tucked it into the top of the bag. She’d leave all this stuff in a locker or something today and grab it before she left. Whenever and however that was.

The Machine buzzed in her ear then, the first real communication she’d had from Her since early yesterday.

“You’ve got a new number,” Root said, dropping her bags next to the front door and pulling her shoes on. Shaw joined her to lace up her own boots.

“Who is it?”

“She didn’t say, but the number is waiting for you on the computer in both the subway and the townhouse.”

“What the hell are you building in the townhouse anyway?” Shaw asked as they walked down the four flights of stairs to the street. “Got a whole fucking room made out of glass in what used to be the main bedroom and some giant contraption in there.”

“That’s an air-conditioning unit,” Root said. Getting it up the stairs had not been fun.

“You storing penguins or something?”

Root chuckled. “Afraid not. Going to be a lot of computers in there soon.”

Shaw led the way out onto the street, jamming her hands into her pants pockets. It was warm enough out that neither of them needed a jacket, but they were both wearing them anyway to hide the guns.

Apparently Shaw had heard enough about the computer room at the townhouse because they spent the rest of the walk in easy silence.

“I’ll still be in the city today if you need to contact the Machine directly for this number,” Root said when they sat down in the diner.

Shaw nodded, picking at a split corner in the plastic of the menu.

“After that I’ll be out of reach until I get back into the city,” Root continued.

Shaw nodded again and then finally looked up.

“Wanna tell me about what was on that drive?”

Root was spared from having to answer immediately by the arrival of the waiter. She hoped Shaw would forget her question by the time they finished ordering, but as soon as the waiter vanished Shaw looked at her expectantly.

“I’m not willing to talk about it here,” Root settled on. Which was true. The fact she also wasn’t ready to talk about it anywhere else could remain unmentioned for the moment.

Shaw glanced around, eyes flicking to cellphones sitting on other customers’ tables and a camera in the ceiling.

“Okay. When?”

Which was a great question and not one that was easy to answer. She didn’t feel that she had a good enough grasp on it yet to explain it to someone else.

“You’re always so impatient, aren’t you?” Root asked, teasing.

Shaw narrowed her eyes, clearly seeing right through Root’s attempt to deflect the question. She worried she’d press the issue, but Shaw must have figured out that she wasn’t willing to discuss it because she switched topics.

“And that person you were following the other day, did she turn out to work for...who you thought she did?”

Root had forgotten she’d mentioned her little mission for the Machine to the others.

“Appears so.”

Her errands today involved tailing the blond Samaritan agent again. She’d taken an instant dislike to the woman, something about the way she moved maybe, but the Machine’s no-kill mandate was still firmly in place so she’d had to content herself with watching from a distance and imagining fun ways to kill her.

She fished a little digital camera out of her jacket pocket, cycled through the saved pictures, and handed it over to Shaw. Since the camera wasn’t connected to any sort of wireless signal it was fairly safe to leave images on it.

“Never seen her before,” Shaw said after a moment.

“That’s a good thing,” Root pointed out. “We’ve got to assume every agent knows our faces. If you run into her it’s imperative that you not let her see you.”

Shaw shrugged. “Bullet in the head would prevent that.”

Root couldn’t argue with that and had no desire to. She’d have felt better if she’d been allowed to kill the woman, but also knew it wouldn’t have really made that much of a difference. Samaritan would only replace her with someone else they didn’t recognize.

“Keep the camera,” Root said. “Show the pictures to Fusco and Reese. Probably Zoe as well to be safe.” Knowing the faces of Samaritan agents could save all their lives someday.

“You still following her?” Shaw asked as she tucked the camera away.

“For today at least. After that I’m not sure.” She enjoyed the mystery of never knowing quite where the Machine was going to take her, but she also wished she knew when she’d be back in the city.

“What if she sees you?” Shaw was maintaining eye contact with an open intensity that was unusual for her, more weight behind her gaze than Root was used to.

“Then I’ll get a new cover. Once the Machine switches my cover it won’t be able to track me anymore.” She wouldn’t say Samaritan unless she had to. It wasn’t worth the risk.

“If she doesn’t kill you first.”

“Please,” Root scoffed. “I can handle one agent on my own.”

Shaw kept looking right in her eyes for what felt like an eternity and then finally turned away to look out the window of the diner.

“See if you can manage it without getting shot this time, then. You’ve hit your yearly quota.”

Root thought about teasing her, asking Shaw if she was worried about her, but the thing was she knew that Shaw worried in her own way. Shaw had proven that over and over again through her actions and teasing her wasn’t going to prove a damn thing.

“I’ll try my best,” was all she said.

Conversation was halted when the food arrived and Shaw dedicated herself to working through an impressive stack of blueberry pancakes. Root watched her fondly as she worked though her own stack of plain pancakes at a much slower rate. Shaw did everything with so much energy and force; it was a privilege to watch.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetie,” Root said when they parted ways outside the diner.

She wanted to try and steal a goodbye kiss, but not in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. She settled for quickly running one hand down Shaw’s arm, a brief, less intrusive contact. Shaw’s eyes flicked up to meet hers and, for the second time that morning, held eye contact, looking at Root like she was trying to figure something out.

It only lasted a moment and then she turned away.

“Later.”

Shaw left without looking back. Root watched her until she disappeared around a corner.

 

* * *

 

“So I get that this kid hacked into Silverpool’s files, but what I don’t get is why,” Shaw said, pulling off her jacket as they entered the subway. Bear ran past her to grab the chew toy near his bed and attack it with playful ferocity.

“Whoever set up this whole contest must want Silverpool’s data,” Reese reasoned.

He walked straight over to the nearest computer and pulled up a search engine to see if he could find anything on the gang patch that was the last of a series of clues in the cryptography scavenger hunt that their latest number, Claire Mahoney, had gotten herself mixed up in. The whole thing had set him on edge; something felt off.

“If that was all they needed then why is the game still going on?” Shaw asked, dropping to the floor next to Bear to play tug-o-war with his toy. “Claire’s had those files for a while now, and she’s still running down clues in the middle of traffic and biker’s bars. Doesn’t make sense.”

Reese’s search online for the gang patch and the seemingly meaningless code on it were going nowhere. As far as he could tell this gang didn’t even exist.

The other puzzles they’d run into hadn’t been too bad once they’d realized what they were dealing with. Both he and Shaw had training in cryptography and nothing they’d run into had been beyond their capabilities. The braille on the signs in the park had almost been too easy, because while neither of them knew braille characters it was the simplest thing in the world to look them up online.

“The whole thing is set up like a contest, so there’s gotta be a prize,” Shaw reasoned. “Something at the end to make it worth it.”

“What would someone like Claire want?” Reese asked. “Her parents are both dead and she doesn’t seem particularly interested in finishing out her college degree. So what do you offer her?”

“What do you offer who?” Fusco asked as he entered from the stairs.

Bear abandoned his game to run over and greet Fusco, and Shaw got up, wiping her hands on her pants.

“We’ve got a college sophomore, book smart, chess prodigy, math major. Parents dead and college abandoned,” Shaw explained. “She’s playing some sort of game for nerds, solving puzzles all over town and hacking into the database of a private military corporation.”

“This game is going to get her killed,” Reese added. “But the question is why she’s interested in it at all and what’s behind it?”

“She have any other family, friends?” Fusco asked, giving Bear a friendly pat.

“She doesn’t seem to have anything,” Reese said.

“There you go then. She’s looking for something to make her life feel worth it.” Fusco said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. “Either that or the thrill of it. Stuff like that brings out the impulsive side in some people.”

Reese frowned. Fusco’s answer made a lot of sense to him. He remembered what it felt like to lose everything and feel like there was nothing left in the world. If Finch hadn’t given meaning to his life where would he be today?

“And she thinks playing some game is going to make a difference?” Shaw asked, sounding annoyed. “Why doesn’t she go do something with her life? Something that would actually make a difference instead of chasing shadows.”

It was moments like this that reminded Reese how different he and Shaw were in some ways. Every time Shaw had run into a roadblock in her life she’d simply gotten up and moved on to something else she could believe in. When she’d been made to quit med school she’d joined the marines. When the ISA had turned on her she’d hunted down the people responsible and then set off to track down Root. And after that she’d joined him and Finch. Shaw didn’t linger over what she lost, she put it behind her and went to find the next part of her life.

“Probably because she’s a scared kid,” Fusco told Shaw. “At that age everyone’s a little unhinged already. Something that seems big and important would probably be a draw to someone trying to find meaning. Especially someone with dead parents.”

Shaw looked like she wanted to argue more but Reese cut in before she had a chance.

“Anyway it doesn’t matter unless we can crack the next piece of the puzzle.” He’d pulled the picture he took up on the computer screen and had scribbled the letter code down onto a piece of paper.

“This some sort of jumble?” Fusco asked, coming over to peer at what he was doing.

“It’s definitely a code of some sort,” Reese said. “Probably something really advanced. Maybe we should call Root.”

“This isn’t a code,” Fusco said. He pointed at the letters. “None of the letters goes past G. That means they’re musical notes.” He started humming.

“New York, New York,” Reese said, realization dawning on him. “This is an address.”

“Top of the rock. The observation deck at the top of Rockefeller center.” Fusco looked incredibly pleased with himself.

“Nice one, Fusco,” Shaw said. She’d come over to peer at the code as well. “You just put all of John’s fancy spy training to shame.”

“Yours, too,” Reese muttered, hurt.

“Yeah, well, we all already knew I’m the smart one here.” Fusco wandered off to set up the often-temperamental coffee maker. “So this kid is headed to the observation deck for something?”

“Probably another clue,” Reese said. “I wish we knew what the clues were to, though.”

His phone started buzzing in his pocket and he pulled it out, frowning at the unknown number. There was only one person this could be. He connected the call and put it on speaker.

“Hey, Root,” Reese said. He saw Shaw roll her eyes which was a bit excessive even for her since Root hadn’t said anything yet.

“Hey, John. I hear you kids have a real mystery on your hands.” Root sounded like her cheerful self.

“There’s some sort of super nerd puzzle all over the city and our number is mixed up in it,” Shaw said, leaning over Reese’s shoulder to get closer to the phone speaker. “Sounds like the sort of dumb thing you’d be into. Any thoughts?”

“Cicada 3301.” Root said it like it was supposed to mean something to them, but Reese drew a blank.

“Wasn’t that some sort of weird government recruiting thing?” Shaw asked.

Apparently she’d heard of it. Reese exchanged a confused look with Fusco, taking solidarity in their ignorance.

“Hmm, not exactly. Cicada 3301 is the name of an organization who makes elaborate puzzles: cryptography, stenography, hacking. A bit of everything really. No one’s ever sorted out who was behind it but it’s doubtful it’s run by the government. A puzzle would appear somewhere online that lead to another puzzle and another. Each one would test different skill sets. All very mysterious.” Root sounded scornful.

“So this is the same people?” Fusco asked. “How’re we supposed to find them then?”

“Not the same people,” Root objected. “They currently still have one running right now and this isn’t it. Also from what the Machine tells me all these puzzles are much simpler and centered in the city. I’d imagine this is a copy of the same idea with the same end goal in mind.”

“And what’s the end goal?” Shaw asked.

“Recruiting. The aim was to recruit highly intelligent and talented individuals to help out with some unknown cause. And who do we know who might be trying to recruit a lot of very smart people quickly and discreetly?”

“Samaritan,” Reese said. That must have been behind the uneasiness he’d felt this whole time.

“So Samaritan is trying to recruit Claire and the Machine wants what? Us to stop it?” Shaw sounded annoyed again. “I thought we were supposed to be steering clear of Samaritan.”

“You are. You got Claire’s number because Silverpool was after her, not because of Samaritan. In fact the reason the Machine had me call was to let you know that this clue you have now is your last chance if keeping her from Samaritan is your intention. Once Claire gets past this clue she’ll be headed straight into Samaritan’s hands and it will be too dangerous to stop her.”

“Okay, so we knock her out and make sure she doesn’t get the next clue,” Shaw reasoned.

“And then what?” Reese asked. “We can’t keep her locked up forever. We need a way to make her stop on her own.”

“Not gonna be much you can offer her,” Fusco pointed out. “Doesn’t sound like she’s got much left to lose.”

“She’s a smart kid, though,” Reese argued. “Math and computer whiz, chess prodigy, completely fearless, not afraid of breaking the rules or walking straight into danger. There’s gotta be something else for her in the world.”

Root’s laugh startled him; it wasn’t a humorous laugh, more self-deprecating.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, suspiciously. He glanced at Shaw but she only shrugged, just as confused as he was.

“Other than the chess I’d think you were talking about someone else,” Root said.

“You,” Shaw said. She was frowning now.

“You’re never going to convince her to give up,” Root continued. “You never convinced me.”

“What are we supposed to do with her, then?” Fusco asked, looking at the others.

“A year ago I probably would have killed her without hesitation.” Root didn’t sound even a bit upset by this. “It’s the only thing that would have stopped me. Now, though, I don’t know what to tell you. Locking me up never helped you any.”

“We’re not killing a kid,” Reese said with finality in his tone. He hoped that Root meant that she wouldn’t either anymore.

“Never thought you would, John. But if you’re committed to stopping her you’ll need to think of something else fast and neither She nor I have any good ideas for you. I only called to warn you that it was your last chance. Once she’s safe from Silverpool your job is technically done. You could let her go. All the Machine wanted was for her to live.”

“The Machine wanted us to save someone who could potentially become a Samaritan asset?” Shaw asked. “Why? Seems counterproductive.”

“It’s what She was programmed to do. She saves lives, She doesn’t judge them.”

There were a few lives Reese could think of that the Machine had judged. Finch’s worries still hovered in the back of his mind.

There were some muffled noises in the background from Root’s end of the line.

“And I’ve gotta go now,” she said, “before the nice man in the trunk of my car dies of heat stroke.”

“You have a man in the trunk of your car?” Fusco asked, looking at the other two for an explanation.

Reese shook his head and Shaw smirked.

“He kept trying to get away,” Root said, as if that made it all make sense. “I think I may need to drug him again. Good luck, kids.”

The line went dead.

“She’s the most terrifying one of you lot and that’s saying something,” Fusco grumbled, glaring at them like Root was their fault.

“We’ve got until the observation deck opens tomorrow morning,” Reese said, trying to divert Fusco from worrying about Root’s hostage. She probably wasn’t going to hurt the guy. Probably.

“So how would you guys keep coco-puffs in line?” Fusco asked.

Reese turned to look at Shaw, figuring this was her area of expertise.

“What?” Shaw asked. “Why’s everyone looking at me? You think Root does what I tell her? And even if she did, I don’t know Claire so it’s not the same.”

That was probably the closest Reese had heard Shaw come to admitting that whatever it was she and Root had was something bigger than sex. Because if there was even a tiny chance that Root would turn her back on something her heart was set on because Shaw asked her to that said a lot.

“You know how she thinks, though,” Reese tried.

Shaw laughed in his face at that. “I wouldn’t go that far.” She sobered up quickly though and wandered away to pick up Bear’s toy off the floor again. The big dog came running back over, excited for round two of playing.

“Let me think about it for a few,” Shaw said, tensing against Bear’s pull on the toy. Her lips curled into a competitive grin as Bear braced his whole body to try and claim the toy from her.

“We’ve got until tomorrow morning,” Reese reminded her. “Fusco and I will try to come up with a plan B in the meantime.”

An hour later they didn’t have anything even resembling a plan though. Shaw was sitting on the floor of the platform, staring into space and leaning up against the outside of the subway car with Bear half-lying on her leg, chewing on his toy.

It was strange, Reese thought, how much more at ease she seemed lately. It was like she’d decided she didn’t need to prove her independence so aggressively anymore. Even when they were working together there had always been a slight space she kept between herself and anyone else, but it wasn’t as defined anymore.

“I have an idea,” Shaw said turning to look at him. “But it’s a terrible idea.”

“Terrible is better than nothing, which is what we’ve got,” Fusco said. “Let’s hear it.”

“Okay,” Shaw said, “But we’re going to need to call Root back and she is _not_ going to like it one bit.”

“You can convince her of whatever it is though, right?” Reese asked.

“She’s not the one I need to convince.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ll take that.” Shaw grabbed the laptop off the ledge that their number, Claire, had set it on.

Claire whirled around furious. “Hey! You can’t…” She looked around, clearly planning to yell and create a scene.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Reese had materialized behind Claire, apparently having finished hiding the unconscious bodies they’d left in the elevator. “My partner is liable to lose her grip on that laptop and send it flying over the edge.”

Claire looked back and forth between both of them, hatred in her eyes. All around them on the sunny observation deck people milled about without a care in the world.

“You’re pathetic, both of you. Can’t win on your own so you have to steal someone else’s work. There’s no way you’ll be allowed to win.”

“Allowed?” Shaw snorted. “Allowed is the sort of logic that works in a fair and rational world. Didn’t think that was something you bought into these days.”

Claire shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll never stop me. I’ve got everything on there backed up and you’ll never find the next clue without me. There’s no way I’ll stop unless you kill me.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. Were all computer nerds this melodramatic? Claire and Root could have a competition.

“Fortunately for you our homicidally-inclined team member is out of town at the moment,” she said. “So you’re going to have to resign yourself to living through the day. Well, at least the next few hours, anyway. After that it’s out of my hands.”

Claire had deflated slightly, losing some of her angry energy. She looked tired and very young. Shaw saw that Reese had something approaching pity in his eyes which made her want to smack him. This wasn’t the time for that. Especially not when she could still see Claire watching her laptop like a hawk. Her defeated act was good, but it was still an act.

“I can’t let all of this have been for nothing,” Claire said. “If it was then everything really is meaningless.”

“Oh please.” Shaw didn’t even try to stop the scorn in her voice. “Meaning isn’t what life gives you, it’s what you put into life yourself.”

Claire looked up at her, eyes flashing. “You’d never understand.”

Shaw shrugged. “You may be right. You know, my dad died in a car crash when I was pretty young. Firefighter pulled me out of the wreckage. Of course that sort of thing is a bit different for me than for someone like you, but the point is the world didn’t stop. Next day my mother got up and set about making sure life went on for both of us. Things like that happen you either curl up and claim defeat or you find a way to keep going.”

Claire’s eyes had been widening through Shaw’s whole speech, but the last part brought back her frown.

“I did find a way to keep going. This is it. The thing you’re currently getting in my way over, this is my path.”

Shaw saw Reese shift almost imperceptibly behind Claire and she gave the tiniest shake of her head. Not yet. The more they made Claire doubt her current plan now the easier the next part of this would be.

They were on a schedule here, though. The Machine had only promised them twenty minutes to be safe from the security cameras on the deck. The last thing she wanted was to get a cranky time-warning call from Root who was probably still sulking about the whole thing.

“You’re running blind trying to find a winner-takes-all solution to all your problems without thinking about what the solution really is. The thing you’re chasing? It’s gonna get a lot of people killed. There’s gonna be a lot more meaningless deaths because of it, except now they’ll be on your hands.”

This was entirely too much talking for her. Convincing some kid to change her life really wasn’t her thing at all, but something about Claire’s whole self-righteous and self-destructive whim annoyed the hell out of her.

“What do you know about this contest?” Claire asked, eyes narrowed. “Who are you people?”

“The organization behind this contest has hurt a lot of innocent people,” Reese said, making Claire jump slightly, like she’d forgotten he was lurking behind her. “We’re the ones who stop them.”

“Stop them… I don’t understand. You’re lying to me. Trying to confuse me, make me drop out.” Claire was back to eyeing the laptop, looking desperate.

“Is that what you really want, Claire? To belong to a secret group that changes the world from the shadows? To give up ever having a normal life?” Shaw pressed.

“Yes,” Claire said without hesitation. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Shaw nodded at Reese and he sank the syringe into Claire’s side, her body hiding it from view.

“Good. You’re gonna get your wish then,” Shaw said as Claire collapsed into Reese’s arms.

She turned around to face the crowd between them and the elevators.

“Make some space! My friend’s niece has heat stroke, we need to get her inside!” She started shoving her way through the crowd who fell back. One or two people tried to come forward and help but she waved them aside. “I’m a doctor. She’s gonna be fine.”

They made it to the elevator without being stopped and started the long ride down.

“Root, you there?” Reese asked.

“Wouldn’t miss out on the show,” Root’s voice said over the comlink to both of them. “Nice speech, Shaw.”

Shaw kind of wanted to belt her because a similar speech wouldn’t have been out of place for Root herself a year or two ago. She’d had the Machine to rein her in though since she’d been beyond listening to what any other human could tell her. Which was probably also true of Claire and why they’d settled on the plan that they had.

“We’re going to get to the townhouse in maybe thirty minutes depending on traffic,” Reese said before Shaw could think of a nasty comeback. “The Machine ready?”

“She’s always ready, John.”

“Where are you, anyway?” Reese asked, readjusting his hold on the sleeping girl.

“Well I asked the Machine if She could find me a fun tropical location for the next mission.”

“Nice. Somewhere in the Caribbean?” Shaw asked. It was grossly humid during the day here, but tropical weather sounded amazing.

“Vancouver, actually. We must have different definitions of tropical.”

Shaw laughed, perversely pleased with the annoyance in Root’s voice.

The elevator dinged for the lobby.

“This is our stop,” Reese said. “We’re on our way, Root.”

“She’ll be ready.” Root killed the line.

“Out of the way! NYPD!”

Fusco was in the downstairs lobby holding up his badge and shooing people away. He made eye contact with Shaw and motioned for them to follow.

Out on the street they immediately moved to Fusco’s car, Reese carrying Claire into the back.

“Can I drive?” Shaw asked. It was an unmarked car, but it was still a cop car and that sounded like fun.

“Why?” Fusco asked suspiciously. He was already handing her the keys though. “No putting the sirens on.”

Shaw made a face. “Spoilsport.”

Fusco shook his head. “Don’t run anyone over. Your buddy back there gets me in enough trouble as it is already.”

Shaw restrained herself from using the siren or lights (mostly because of Samaritan; she would have loved to stress out Fusco) and got them to the townhouse. Reese hurried inside with Claire, Shaw and Fusco on his heels.

“Should still have a little bit of time before it wears off,” Shaw said as she led the way to the room they’d set up.

It was a large walk-in closet on the second floor that they’d shoved a desk, chair, and simple computer setup into. The computer was hooked into the secure connection every other machine on the floor used which made it as safe as it possibly could be. They’d needed a room that guaranteed Claire could never identify where they were. Either way this went they were drugging Claire again before they took her out of here.

Reese deposited Claire into the chair in front of the computer and then left, shutting the door behind him and throwing the dead-bolt they’d installed on the outside.

“Now we wait,” he said. “Or you do anyway. I have to get back to work.”

Shaw nodded. She’d been taking too many days off from helping Zoe recently. As much as she enjoyed working the numbers more she was going to have to try and put in some time at her day job in the near future to keep up appearances. Maybe she’d get lucky and Zoe would get involved in a gang war or something exciting.

The boys stayed long enough to check on the camera feed they’d set up to show the inside of the closet. Claire was still out cold in the barely-lit room. Shaw settled into the chair in front of the desk at the observation station and put her feet up. If she was going to be stuck here, she might as well try to be comfortable. Reese gave her a sympathetic half-smile and left.

Fusco lingered for another minute.

“You know, kidnapping a kid aside, what you’re doing, it’s a good thing probably.”

Shaw scowled at him. “I’m protecting the mission, Lionel. Claire is too smart to let Samaritan get their hands on her, and we’re not supposed to kill people. This satisfies both requirements.”

Fusco nodded. “Well, for whatever reason you’re doing it, it’s the right move.”

Shaw turned back to the monitors until she heard him leave.

 

* * *

 

Shaw was half-asleep when Claire finally stirred on camera. She sat upright, dropping her legs back to the floor and rubbing some life back into them.

“Root? She’s up.”

The Machine had been insistent that the camera set up to observe the room not have a view of the computer monitor so Shaw couldn’t see what Claire was seeing on the computer screen. She could tell see that Claire was reading something and see when she leaned forward to type a response and then paused and said something out loud instead.

There were no mics in the room either, so Shaw couldn’t hear her and the video quality was too crappy to try lip-reading. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, having to resign herself to wait even longer.

“It’s out of our hands now, sweetie.”

Shaw hadn’t even been sure Root had gotten her message.

“You’re the one who keeps telling me to trust the Machine,” Shaw pointed out.

Root made a disgusted noise. “I trust the Machine. It’s Claire I don’t trust.”

“You said she was a lot like you…”

“Exactly. I’m inherently untrustworthy. Just ask Harold.”

“If she’s like you then the only thing that can persuade her of anything is the Machine. She can give her the mystical bullshit purpose she’s looking for without sending her down a destructive path like Samaritan will.”

“I wouldn’t say the Machine is the _only_ one who can persuade me to do things,” Root replied, teasing gently.

At least she’d stopped sulking.

“Root, I can’t even get you to take out the trash.”

“Oops, my guy just got here. Gotta go.”

Shaw held back a laugh, wondering when Root being a pain in the ass had become more funny than annoying.

“Try not to get kicked out of Canada.”

“But it would be such a good story.”

“I’m not flying up there to bail you out.”

“Please. I have a degree in jail-breaks. Have fun, sweetie.”

Shaw turned her attention back to the silent conversation on the screen.

 

* * *

 

Reese joined Shaw and Zoe on the sidewalk across from Claire’s dorm.

“Hello, John,” Zoe said with a smile. Shaw only gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“Is it safe for both of you to be here near Claire at the same time?” he asked. It was good to see Zoe again, though. He’d had to steer clear of her recently.

“I had to meet with the Dean of the university to discuss some matters,” Zoe explained. “We have a perfectly valid reason for being here.”

“And I’m here to tell you that you can’t park your car in a fire zone,” Reese said, pointing at where Shaw had left the vehicle.

“Gonna arrest me, officer?” Shaw’s voice held a challenge, like she was ready for a fight. Must have had a boring day.

“How’s Claire doing?” he asked, to change the subject.

“She’s back in class, finishing out her degree,” Shaw said. “She’s remaining in contact with...our employer...and is going to help out on things in her own way. Some day she may even be able to help us out directly, but not yet.”

“Someday I’d like to meet this mysterious employer of yours,” Zoe commented. It was far from the first time she’d brought it up.

Shaw and Reese exchanged a glance. They’d been talking over the logistics of that lately. Zoe was pretty deeply involved by sheer merit of providing Shaw’s cover. At this point keeping her ignorant might be more dangerous than not.

“Root still cranky?” Reese asked, trying to change the subject yet again.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I haven’t heard too much from her, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Claire doesn’t have the sort of direct line Root does, but she still doesn’t trust her or want her anywhere near any of this.”

It hadn’t been Root’s call, though. The Machine had thought trying to save Claire was worth the risk, that she was worth trying to change. Shaw had tried to point out to Root that the Machine had thought the same of her, but the potential threat to the Machine and the team’s safety far outweighed any sliver of altruism that Root might have. Claire didn’t fall in the small group of things Root cared about and it was that simple to her.

It was, Reese supposed, one of the many reasons she and Finch had lacked common ground.

“How’s your new job treating you, John?” Zoe asked, scrolling through something on her phone with one finger. “Being on the right side of the law for once must be cramping your style.”

Reese held back a groan. “Do you know I have to fill out paperwork every time I fire a gun?”

Zoe looked amused.

“Entire rainforests must be dying.” She turned to Shaw. “We need to go now. I have to make an appointment downtown. And we don’t want John to tow my car.”

“He could try,” Shaw said smugly.

“Root wouldn’t like it if I had to handcuff you,” Reese said, unable to stop himself. Root had made one too many bad bondage jokes for that to remain a secret.

Shaw elbowed him in the ribs, hard enough that it drove the breath out of him and left him coughing.

“Okay, I probably deserved that,” he said.

Shaw looked pleased with herself.

“I’m not going to stop her from killing you,” Zoe pointed out.

“I don’t think you could.” Reese said, ruefully.

He didn’t even go to open Zoe’s car door for her, slightly worried that Shaw might try to run over his foot.

As it was she drove right through a puddle near the curb on her way out, splashing gross water up over the sidewalk to soak his shoes.

“I probably deserved that, too,” Reese said with a sigh.

He looked over at Claire’s building one last time before leaving. Root might be worried about how things had turned out, and to be honest, so was he, but he thought they’d done well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to touch on every episode of season 4 by a long shot. Definitely a couple of key ones though. 
> 
> Cicada 3301 is a real thing for a given definition of real and I'd be pretty shocked if they didn't base the episode Nautalis on it in part. Other fun internet mysteries to check out include A858 and the Markovian Parallax Denigrate. (The original draft of this chapter that I completely scrapped had Root vaguely imply that she was behind A858 as a way to troll reddit).
> 
> Next chapter on Sunday.


	18. Prophets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks again to all leaving comments and kudos. I spent a lot of time worrying if people are actually reading this and you let me know you are.

 

“How’s the heat wave, honey?” Root asked as she straightened the stack of menus in front of her.

“What’d you want, Root? I’m busy.” Shaw sounded grumpy over the comlink.

Root smiled to herself. “Yes, watching the X-Files on cable does sound exhausting. Honestly, Sameen, at least unmute it. Also you can watch it streaming without ads you know.”

She glanced around the fancy restaurant she was currently the host of. All evening she’d been showing rich, entitled assholes to their tables and practicing her fakest smiles.

“Lousy summer reruns,” Shaw grumbled. “There’s nothing on at all. And no number today, _and_ Zoe gave me the day off so she could go meet up with some boy toy of hers or something.”

“John?” She was pretty sure Zoe and John had hooked up at least once, though she’d never gotten the impression it was serious. The Machine wasn’t saying, which was frankly unsporting of Her. What good was having a friend who literally knew everything when She wouldn’t even indulge in some gossip?

Shaw snorted.

“Some other boy toy, I think. Or a woman for all I know. Reese isn’t supposed to be anywhere near Zoe with her being my cover and all.”

Root had to wait to respond because a couple showed up at the front desk where she was working. She hunted down their reservation, deleted it, and then apologized profusely that she couldn’t find it and that they were completely booked.

It had nothing to do with the mission she was on, she just hadn’t liked them and was bored.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shaw asked, curiously.

Root had left the line open so she’d probably caught at least some of the exchange.

“Playing hostess for the rich and arrogant. I’d say that I wish She’d made my cover as a guest here rather than staff, but honestly the food looks atrocious.”

“You once ate a bag of skittles for lunch, Root. I’m not sure you know what good food is. The fact you’re working in a restaurant is a crime.”

Root relaxed fractionally. Shaw wasn’t trying to end the conversation which meant she probably didn’t mind it.

“Want me to bring you a doggy bag?” she offered.

“You headed back here then?”

Root had to pause the conversation again to show a fur-wrapped couple to their table. There were only so many times she could get away with being a dick to customers before she got fired and ruined her cover.

“Got to pick something up from someone patronizing this fine establishment this evening, then I’m flying back. How’re things there? Hear you had fun fighting with the Brotherhood while Reese got to play with children.”

She moved through the tables back towards her post at the door, eyes flicking over the customers. Her target hadn’t arrived yet, but his table was set up and had a little ‘reserved’ card on it. The table next to it should have been empty as well, but a woman wearing a fancy hat was sitting there.

“Yeah, it was alright, I guess. Rather be running down Samaritan agents. There’ll always be gangs.”

“Hmmm,” Root responded, only half-listening. Why was that woman there? She hadn’t let her in. She drifted towards the table, so she could get a look at her face.

“Hello, ma’am, how can I hel….”

The distressed scream of the Machine in her ear warned her only a second before the woman looked up from her menu. Root saw the woman’s eyes widen in recognition and her hand dart towards her lap.

Root grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it forward onto the woman before fleeing back towards the exit. She didn't even have time to grab the gun she’d stashed under the front table (her dress hadn’t left much of anywhere to hide a gun) and instead ran out into the street.

“Root? Whatever you’re doing over there doesn’t sound like it falls within the duties of restaurant hosting.”

“You must not be going to the right restaurants then,” Root said, hurrying down the street.

The Machine was being cautious since she’d just pulled Samaritan’s attention, but She managed to give Root some basic directions. She hurried around a corner, ran through traffic to cross the street, ignoring the angry honks of cars, and then around another corner. This street was much less busy but she still managed to barrel straight into another pedestrian, knocking him off his feet.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” she purred, pulling him back up. “How clumsy of me. My apologies.”

The man straightened himself out, and shoved past her, glaring.

So much for being polite. Now she didn’t even have to pretend to feel bad for lifting the small hard drive from his bag. Or taking his wallet. She might have had to abandon her post at the restaurant but at least she’d completed the mission.

“Why does it sound like you’re having more fun than I am right now?” Shaw complained. “This sucks.”

“You know that Samaritan agent I’ve been following?” Root asked, hurrying down the street. “Well, she just found me.”

She heard a slight indrawn breath from Shaw.

“How’d she find you?”

“I think she was after my target as well. I hope so anyway.” If Samaritan could actually track her she’d probably be dead.

“You need backup?”

Root laughed quietly. “Shaw, sweetie, you concern is touching, but I’m still in Canada.”

“I’m not concerned. I’m bored,” Shaw corrected and then immediately ruined it by adding: “Is she still after you?”

Root risked a glance over her shoulder. She didn’t see the other woman, but that didn’t mean anything.

“Probably. I need to go dark and get a new identity. This one has definitely been blown.”

The Machine played a quick note in her ear and she turned left and ran up the steps into an apartment building lobby. Another quick instruction sent her into the elevator where she hit the button for the second floor. The Machine informed her that the woman after her was only a minute away from the building. Root let out a long breath.

“So listen, Shaw, about....us,” Root started.

“What about us?” Shaw asked suspiciously.

“Don't be obtuse. Would it be so terrible talk about us? I mean we could talk about Lionel instead but that doesn't sound fun.”

The elevator dinged and she moved out into the hallway. There were no cameras in the hall so she was relatively hidden from Samaritan. On the other hand the lobby had a camera and Samaritan would know what floor she went to so the lack of cameras here was barely an advantage. She headed towards the end of the hall.

“Root, this isn’t…. Aren’t you currently being chased by a Samaritan agent?”

She made quick work of the lock on the last apartment and entered, shutting the door behind her. The Machine had assured her it was empty and she didn’t question Her word.

“I’m multitasking, it’s something I happen to be excellent at as you well know.”

Shaw groaned.

“If there was ever a time for this conversation, which there probably won’t be, this definitely isn’t it. Besides you’re already…” There was a pause where Shaw made some sort of growling noise in her throat. “...you’re already staying at my place when you’re here and, you know, other stuff. What are you asking for?”

Root moved into the tiny kitchen in the back of the apartment and went to the window at the Machine’s prompting. The damn thing was jammed. She cursed silently and looked around for something to pry it open with.

“I’m not asking for more, Sam. I’m asking if it’s okay the way it is. If it’s...not too much.” She was almost glad to have her whole situation partially distracting her from the conversation.

Shaw didn’t respond in the time it took Root to wedge the window open and knock the screen out. She stuck her head out and peered down at the ground. The alley below was paved with cement and while it wasn’t an impossible drop, it wasn’t going to be nice. She knew better than to question the Machine’s instructions, though. If She said jump out a window then Root was going to jump out the damn window.

She shoved the small hard drive and the man’s wallet into her bra for lack of anywhere else to put them. It wasn’t comfortable or particularly secure but it was hardly the first time she'd stuck a hard drive in her bra and it would have to do.

“You think I wouldn’t just tell you to fuck off if I wanted you gone?” Shaw asked finally.

Root let out a long breath and shut her eyes, warmth spreading through her.

“Good to know.”

Shaw gave an annoyed huff.

“You’re not allowed to die in Canada, Root. That would be super lame. Stop being a melodramatic little shit and get out of there.”

Root smiled and slid up onto the windowsill, her legs dangling into space. She kicked her heels off, letting them drop onto the ground. No way was she landing in those things. She braced herself for a second and then slid out and down.

The shock of hitting the ground slammed through her like a tidal wave and even though she rolled to try to lessen the impact, it hurt like hell.

“What the hell was that?” Shaw asked.

“Botched my landing,” Root said as she pulled herself up. “Pretty sure the judges are going to deduct points for that.”

Her ankle was throbbing and complained when she put weight on it and she was covered with scrapes. She ignored it as best she could and limped quickly down the alley after retrieving her shoes. There were no cameras here so she needed to get out of sight before the Samaritan agent got to the window and spotted her.

“I’m taking points off for it and I didn’t even see it. Sounded like you threw yourself off a building.”

“That’s not completely inaccurate. Only out a window.”

Her short dress was just...ruined. Oh well. It hadn’t really been her color anyway. The Machine was telling her that if she followed the alley to the other side, stuck to the left side of the street, and stayed under the scaffolding at the next left turn she could get into a cheap hotel where she could pay cash with the money in the wallet she’d stolen. It would give her time to regroup, clean up, and wait for the Machine to get her a new identity.

“You should stick to hacking computers and leave jumping out of windows to me and Reese,” Shaw said, unimpressed. “We’re way more graceful. Well, I am, anyway.”

Root’s smile turned into a wince when her ankle twinged again. It wasn’t broken, probably only twisted. It’d be fine if she stayed off it for a day. Of course that might not be an option.

She didn’t say much to Shaw until after she’d paid for a room in the hotel and locked the door behind her.

“I think I’m safe. For now.”

“Your flight plans have been cancelled I’d assume?”

Root sprawled onto one of the shitty beds with a sigh of relief, dropping the hard drive and wallet onto the mattress next to her.

“Not sure. She needs to make me a new identity so I’m safe from the cameras. They’ll probably be watching the airports with agents, but the faster I get out of here the better.”

“You’re missing some truly disgusting weather here. We’ll save some for you.”

“Can’t wait,” Root said, flexing her ankle experimentally. She couldn’t slip out to get painkillers, but maybe she could soak it.

“John almost fainted from dehydration in the subway yesterday,” Shaw said cheerfully. “Had to haul his ass outside and buy him a gatorade.”

Root smiled at the mental image. “Sorry I missed that.”

“I’m sure we could arrange a repeat performance.”

They both lapsed into silence.

“You passing out now?” Shaw asked.

“Hmm, in a bit.”

“Did you want to hear about how I almost got Zoe kicked out of some fancy black-tie event the other day?”

The Machine had given her a very brief summary already, but Root didn’t care.

“She can’t take you anywhere, can she?”

“Psh. She should give me a raise.”

“Please. Entertain me.”

Root settled back into the mattress, listening to Shaw’s overly-enthusiastic description of the events leading up to her grabbing a billionaire by his tie and dragging him across a room full of horrified party guests. She knew she needed to get up and clean out all the scrapes and do something about her ankle soon, but for right now this was where she needed to be.

 

* * *

 

“I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer on this one, Charles,” Zoe said, giving a slight nod to Shaw.

Shaw surged forward and grabbed the man behind the desk by his tie before slamming his head down. Being around Zoe had given her a new appreciation for grabbing men by the tie and now she tried to indulge it whenever she was allowed.

“Give it up, _Charles_ ,” Shaw hissed at the struggling man.

Zoe was still seated in her chair across from the desk, looking out the window as if distracted.

“This really isn’t me,” she said. “I fix problems. I make them go away. I don’t start fights or make physical threats. I make deals.”

The man, Charles Jones, tried to say something but it came out as a choked cough. Shaw relaxed her grip slightly so she didn’t accidentally kill him.

“But here’s the problem I have right now,” Zoe continued, ignoring the sputtering. “You’ve made very serious and untrue allegations about a good friend of mine, things that could cost him his career and his marriage. This isn’t some deal I’m working here. This is personal. So the rules are off the table for now.”

Shaw ground the man’s face into the desk a bit. Hopefully this didn’t take too much longer; she was getting hungry. She wondered if she could convince Zoe to get her a table at that new restaurant near her place after this.

“So either you put in a call right now that clears my friend of all the accusations against him, or I’ll leave you alone with my associate for a little while and we can try again later.”

Jones was nodding his head vigorously, his hands clawing desperately at the table. Shaw looked over to Zoe for confirmation before releasing him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call my lawyer right now,” Jones gasped, rubbing his throat. “Holy shit, you bitches are crazy.”

“You have no idea,” Shaw said. She was only just resisting the urge to pull out her knife and pin his tie to the desk for dramatic effect. Clearly Root’s flair for over-the-top pageantry had rubbed off on her.

She watched the rest of the encounter unfold with diminished interest. As much as she took satisfaction in the way Zoe completely destroyed people, watching them snivel wasn’t particularly entertaining.

“I think that went well,” Zoe commented as they made their way back to the car.

“Still say you should have let me break one of his fingers.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t take his tie as a souvenir.”

“Trophies are for losers.”

She wondered if Root kept hacking trophies, pinned print-outs of people’s darkest secrets to her wall.

After they settled into the car Shaw realized she had no idea where they were going and looked back at Zoe for instructions.

“Hmmm? Oh. I need to call my friend and let him know it’s all taken care of, but after that I’m done for the day.”

“Back home it is,” Shaw said, turning the key in the engine.

“Unless you wanted to grab a drink or a bite first,” Zoe offered. “I could use some unwinding before I turn in.”

“You invite all your employees out for drinks?” Shaw joked. Zoe didn’t have any other employees.

“Only the hot ones,” Zoe replied. “Though I guess I shouldn’t even joke about that or your...ah...or Root will come to collect my head.”

Shaw snorted. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

She glanced in the rearview mirror to see Zoe tapping away at her phone innocently. Had she been fishing for details on Shaw’s personal life or had it only been an offhand comment?

“I could go for some food,” Shaw said finally.

“Excellent. I know just the place.”

They had to park in a lot a few blocks from the restaurant Zoe got them reservations at and walk over.

“I shouldn’t have complained about it being cold,” Shaw said, pulling at her collar. The gross humidity that had settled over the city was inescapable.

“It’ll be freezing cold again in no time at all,” Zoe reassured her. “Seasons are all about suffering. It’s like different rings of hell.”

Shaw chuckled. “Well, that’s super cheerful.”

“Hanging out with you lot has given me a new-found grasp on optimism.”

“Understandable,” Shaw allowed. They did seem to spend a lot of time barely surviving.

She froze mid-step and threw her arm out to stop Zoe as well.

“What?” Zoe asked quietly.

Shaw turned around, half-ducking behind Zoe and glanced up the street the way they’d come. She grabbed Zoe by the wrist and dragged her into the doorframe of a closed store.

“Shaw?” Zoe asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Quiet.”

She peered around the doorframe down the street. The man she’d spotted was now walking in the opposite direction from where they were hidden. It would probably be safer to let him go, run and hide, but that felt like a wasted opportunity.

She pulled her phone out and opened up the maps app. Root had done something to it so the shadow map was now overlaid over the normal map. Sure enough, they were in a dead zone. It only made sense because otherwise the Machine would have had Root yelling at her right now.

“Wanna help me do something dumb and slightly dangerous?” Shaw asked Zoe with a grin.

“Of course.” Zoe’s eyes lit up.

“I need you to create a distraction, like a really big one. Just go over there and start yelling your head off or something. Keep everyone’s attention for as long as you can.”

“You’re going to tell me why after.” It wasn’t a request.

“Seems fair. Make sure you face away from this direction, too.”

She started off down the street after the man she’d spotted, keeping her head down. As an afterthought she pulled her hair out of its ponytail to help hide her face.

She’d been expecting it, but the blood-curdling scream Zoe let out behind her still surprised her a little. Everyone on the street turned around to see what the fuss was. The man she was following did, too, but she was already right on his tail and slid past him without being noticed.

Once she was behind him she did a quick check to make sure everyone nearby was focused on the scene Zoe was throwing. There hadn’t been that many people to start with and none of them was close or paying her any attention.

Deciding she was in the clear she took her gun out and pistol-whipped the man in the temple. He dropped like a stone and she let him hit the pavement before grabbing him by the collar of his expensive suit and dragging him into the small alley behind the building they were next to.

“Jeremy Lambert, what in the world are you doing here?” she asked the incapacitated man.

Lambert was too busy being mildly-concussed and unconscious to answer.

She went through his pockets taking his wallet, a gun, and two cell phones and being careful to use her jacket sleeves over her hands to avoid prints. The gun she tucked into her waistband for the moment so she could examine the rest.

The wallet had some cash, a few credit cards and driver’s licenses under various names, and what looked like a key-card of some sort. She thought about taking it but the chances Samaritan could track it were much greater than the chances that she could find what it opened. She ditched the card in a dumpster but kept the rest of the wallet.

The first phone was a shitty little disposable phone that he probably would discard at some point in the near future, but the second phone looked a lot more important. She pried the back off of it and pulled out the battery and SIM card. The card she snapped in half and dropped and the phone and the battery she pocketed.

“I’ll take these, thanks.” Maybe Root or the Machine could pull something off his phone.

She really wanted to shoot him. It would be so simple to put a bullet in his head right now and walk away and she knew that she wouldn’t regret it. But the Machine, even if she was slightly less insistent about them not killing than Reese was comfortable with, wouldn’t be down with her shooting a defenseless man when she could safely walk away.

Besides he’d only get replaced with someone they didn’t recognize. If it had been a different Samaritan agent today she might be dead.

Oh, well. Plan B wasn’t quite as definitive, but it was satisfying.

She dialed 911 on Lambert’s disposable phone and then dropped it, still ringing, next to him on the ground. She heard the operator on the other end talking as she took Lambert’s gun out of her waistband and wrapped his hand around it.

Then she slipped out of the alley and went to find Zoe.

The crowd at the end of the block made it easy to locate her but meant she had to shove past a bunch of people to reach her.

“Oh, there’s my friend now,” Zoe said when she saw her. She was sitting on the edge of a store window frame fanning herself. “She’ll take care of me.”

Shaw made a show of helping Zoe out of the crowd and away down the street towards where they’d left the car. The crowd fell away pretty quickly. New Yorkers would stop and help someone in need, but they generally wouldn’t linger or pry. Made working in the city much easier.

“You get what you need?” Zoe asked when they were back in the car.

“Mugged someone,” Shaw said. “Been too long. Had to make sure I wasn’t getting rusty.”

“Want to tell me exactly what sort of felony I just helped commit?” Zoe asked. She sounded amused more than anything else.

“Yeah, I think I probably should fill you in. On all of it.”

Root had run into one Samaritan agent and they’d almost walked straight into another one. It had probably hit the point where keeping Zoe in the dark was more dangerous than not.

A police car with its sirens on screeched past them towards the alley where she’d left Lambert. He could have fun explaining his gun away. Probably wouldn’t slow him down much, but it still amused her.

“Shall we discuss it over dinner? Somewhere else, maybe? I get the impression you probably want to leave this area.”

“Yeah, somewhere else. But we can’t talk about it in public. Food and then we go somewhere private and talk.”

Zoe pulled her phone out.

“I know a great place on the other side of town. I’ll get us a reservation.”

 

* * *

 

“You get the new number, too, Shaw?”

“Yeah, John, I got it. You run this guy's info?”

“Simon Lee. A pollster working in the upcoming election.”

“A numbers guy? Who’d want him dead?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

 

* * *

 

There were moments throughout Root’s life where she felt like time almost stood still.

The first was when she’d heard that Hanna hadn’t come home the night after she saw her get in the car with Trent Russell. Some part of her had already known that Hanna wouldn’t go home that night, had known since the car door shut and in the hours after when the librarian wouldn’t listen to her and she’d called 911. But when the teacher had announced it in school the next morning everything around Root had faded away to a distant ringing in her ears, a white light clouding her vision, and a sick feeling in her stomach. The classroom had seemed to slow down to a crawl, and time stopped.

When her senses had returned and time was moving again she’d run out of the room and to the bathroom where she’d thrown up in a toilet. Sitting there on the bathroom floor she’d felt a raw anger consume her. It felt powerful, wild, and better than the helplessness she’d been feeling all day. It never really left her after that.

She’d experienced something similar when she’d gotten to the the power plant that was supposed to house the Machine and found it empty. It was the first time since Hanna’s death that she felt that sort of despair and loss again. Once again time had slowed down and voices had faded away into the background, broken finally by the same rage she’d felt that day in the bathroom when she was twelve.

And now, as she stood in the lobby of the hotel facing down the Samaritan agent the Machine had finally IDed as Martine Rousseau, time slowed down again. She could see Martine aiming at her, and she had time to see every detail of the woman she kept crossing paths with. She thought she could actually visualize the path the bullet would take to hit the number they were trying to protect, a pollster named Simon Lee, and had all the time in the world to step sideways in front of the bullet.

That bullet wouldn’t kill her, she knew. But she was running out of ammo and she needed to pull Martine away from Simon, and, more importantly, from Shaw and Reese who were waiting outside for him.

She’d explained it to the others back when they were first adapting to their new identities.

“How come it matters if Samaritan’s agents see us?” Shaw had asked her. “They can’t fix the blind spot you gave Samaritan, right?”

“No, nothing can fix that. But what can happen is if an agent sees you at the same time as Samaritan the agent can ID you and then Samaritan will know your new cover identity is actually you and will equate the two going forward. A team effort for their side, but one that could put all of us in danger.”

These moments when everything froze had never been about her, she realized. They were about loss. But this time it wasn’t only about the fear of losing someone else, for the first time ever she felt an overwhelming fear of dying. There were reasons not to die now, huge, inescapable reasons that were weighing her down like anchors.

The bullet ripped into her arm and suddenly everything was moving at normal speed again. It was no longer just her and Martine but a lobby full of smoke and screaming civilians. She saw Martine stumble back and couldn’t even remember firing the bullet that hit her. The Machine must have told her where to shoot and she’d obeyed without even consciously thinking about it.

But now, as Martine recovered, she needed to lead her away to protect the others. Shaw and Reese wouldn’t back down from a fight if it meant saving a number and Root could already see Martine tracking Simon with her eyes, figuring out how to follow him.

“You can’t kill us both. Who does you master want dead? Me? Or Simon?”

She glanced up at the camera, knowing Samaritan was watching, and listened as the Machine frantically listed out statistics in her ear. But She didn’t tell her not to save him. If Martine didn’t follow her the others all died when Samaritan IDed them. This way there was a chance.

“I’ll even sweeten the deal,” Root said, letting her guns fall to the ground.

The music the Machine was playing now was getting faster, higher, distressed as Root’s chances of escape plummeted. It was enough, though. Martine was focused on her now, probably redirected by Samaritan’s measurement of her odds.

“Kill me if you can.”

Root turned and ran.

She could feel the pain from the two bullet wounds but it was faint, unimportant. She’d have to deal with that later. Shaw was going to be mad.

There was a fire exit and then an alley and then she was out on the street, shoving through a crowd on the street, distant fire burning in her right arm.

“Just like Canada all over again,” she said, wondering if the Machine believed in coincidences. Was everything random or was it all inevitable? Did the first domino fall on its own or was it pushed?

“Root, where are you?” It was Reese checking in. “We’ve dealt with Simon. You need backup?”

She didn’t answer and a second later the Machine killed the line. Reese and Shaw couldn’t come rescue her now and she needed to concentrate.

The blood on her arm wasn’t drawing much attention from the people she ran past because, well, this was New York City and it took a lot to surprise people here. She took another side street, heading away from the pedestrians because the Machine wouldn’t want collateral damage and Reese would get all frowny faced if she let some tourist take a bullet for her.

A glance back over her shoulder showed her Martine only a block behind her and gaining. Maybe if she survived this she’d start running with Shaw if fleeing from Samaritan agents was going to become a regular occurrence.

By the next turn her lungs were burning and the adrenaline was starting to wear off. Her ankle that she’d injured in Canada was throbbing.

“I need a way out,” she gasped. “Please.”

This desperate urge to survive was new to her and constricting. Not having anything to lose had been simpler, made doing her job easier. Now everything was all tangled up and complicated.

She'd once told Harold that caring about other people was a weakness. And it was. It was going to get her killed. And yet she couldn't turn it off even if she'd wanted to.

“Please,” she asked again.

She knew she was slowing down. It would be seconds before Martine rounded the corner and had a clear shot at her.

She staggered to a halt.

“I’m not sure if Shaw would appreciate two near-death calls in one week, but…”

She stopped when a car screeched to a halt at the curb next to her. The passenger-side door opened.

“Get in,” snapped a voice she didn’t recognize.

At this point she’d take any out.

Which is how she ended up racing through the city in a car with the last person she’d ever expected to rescue her.

 

* * *

 

“Got the papers out of Simon’s safe,” Shaw announced, dropping them on the table in the subway. “Now we just need Root to alter the digital copies.”

She dropped into a chair and stretched out, enjoying her first bit of downtime in hours.

“Have you heard from her yet?” Reese asked picking up one of the papers and looking it over.

“Not yet.” It wouldn’t be the first time Root hadn’t bothered to check in though. It’d only been two hours since they’d left Simon Lee unconscious in a dumpster so it was too early to start worrying.

“People get killed for making spreadsheets these days,” Reese said, putting the paper back on the table. “What’s next? Web design?”

“I think everyone’s fair game for Samaritan. We’ve seen that it’s starting to take a hand in politics, maybe it’ll go after the press next. Or the military.”

Reese was about to respond when their comlinks interrupted him.

“Anyone there?”

“Root,” Reese said sounding relieved. “You get out of there okay?”

“More or less. Listen, I need some backup if you and Shaw are available.”

“We’re both in the subway,” Shaw chimed in. “What’re we looking at?”

“You...need to come see for yourselves, I’m afraid.” Root sounded very serious, no hint of her normal playful teasing.

“You gotta give us a little more than that. We walking into a firefight?” Reese asked.

“No, you shouldn’t be.”

Root’s answers were way too short and uninflected. Shaw had a suspicion.

“Is someone there with you right now, Root?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you in danger?” Reese pressed, exchanging a quick look with Shaw.

What in the world had Root gotten herself into now?

“No, I don’t think so. But you should come now.”

The line went dead before Shaw could try and get any more information out of her.

“Where the hell are we supposed to go?” she snapped. “Ugh.”

Her phone vibrated and she pulled it out to see an unknown number had texted her an address.

“Guess we’re going on a field-trip,” Reese said coming over to look at her phone. “Should I bring the grenade launcher?”

Root had said she wasn’t in danger and that they weren’t walking into a fight, but….

“Yeah, let’s pack a few surprises.”

They were in a car about fifteen minutes later, backseat loaded with goodies, and headed towards the address they’d been sent.

“You don’t think Samaritan has her, do you?” Reese asked, staring out the passenger’s side window. “Coerced her into calling us?”

“In two hours? I doubt it. She survived Control, I mean. It would take a lot.”

“There’s a lot you can do in two hours,” Reese pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong, but there was nothing they could do either way.

The building they’d been given the address to was abandoned and boarded up. The block it was on was all stores shut down for the night so while there was little to no foot traffic there was actual legal street parking.

“Looks like a good place to take someone out,” Shaw said as they got out of the car.

Reese was cradling his grenade launcher like it was his favorite child. Shaw had elected to bring along a submachine gun in addition to her usual handgun.

“Looks like someone left the door open for us,” Reese said, motioning towards where the metal doors in the sidewalk by the building had been pulled open to reveal stairs down to a basement door.

“I’ll take point.” Shaw headed towards the stairs. “If we get in over our heads I’ll hit the deck and you can go to town with your toy there.”

The door at the bottom was unlocked and opened into a short hallway lit by a single bulb overhead. The only way forward was an opening in the wall to the left. She spun around the edge into the larger room beyond, leading with her gun.

“That’s not necessary.”

Shaw felt her eyebrows raising on their own.

“Hersh?”

The basement room was mostly full of random boxes and crates but a table had been set up in the center of the floor and, on the side closer to them, Hersh was standing aiming a gun right back at her. Her brain registered that Root was sitting in a chair on the far side of the table and looked relatively okay, but she didn’t have time to focus on that right now.

Reese had entered behind her and had opted to point his handgun rather than his grenade launcher at Hersh, which was a solid call considering that they were in fairly close quarters here.

“You don’t need the guns, Shaw,” Hersh said calmly.

“Put yours down first, then.”

“I’m the one outnumbered here.”

“Maybe you don’t remember but the last few times we crossed paths you tried to kill me. You actually _did_ kill me once.”

“I let Reese go last time,” Hersh said reasonably.

“He did,” Reese agreed, though he didn’t budge an inch.

“And you got me back,” Hersh continued.

“I _drugged_ you. That’s not even close to the same.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Root moving slightly, coughing, or possibly covering a laugh with a cough.

“Don’t you want to know why I was trying to contact all of you?” Hersh asked.

She did, actually, but not enough to trust him.

“Root,” she called. “You know what’s going on here?”

“More or less. I’m pretty sure he’s not here to kill us if that helps, but I can’t say I blame you for not trusting him.”

“Why don’t I take the first step here?” Hersh asked and slowly turned his gun and clicked the safety on before lowering it.

“Shaw?” Reese asked.

She watched Hersh closely. Even if he put down the gun he was holding she’d bet he had more. But….

“Stand down.”

She heard Reese lower his gun behind her. Which just left her. She kept her gun pointed at Hersh for a little longer than was strictly necessary before lowering it with a groan.

“This should end well.”

“Now we’ve sorted all that out, can we talk without trying to shoot each other?” Hersh asked, motioning them towards the table. There were enough chairs there for all of them.

They inched carefully through the room, keeping an eye on Hersh until they were over on Root’s side. Reese was focused on Hersh so Shaw took a second to glance over Root.

“You got shot? Again? You’re worse than Reese.”

“Hey!” Reese complained, sounding slightly offended.

“Guess I’m just popular,” Root said looking down at the bandages on her right arm. Up close she looked exhausted and way too pale.

The table had some medical supplies on it: bloody gauze, tweezers, a bloody bullet slug.

“And you let Hersh patch you up?” Shaw asked. “Your arm is probably going to rot off.”

“Hey!” It was Hersh’s turn to sound offended.

“You can redo it later.” Root waved a hand at Hersh. “Right now we need to hear what he has to say to the Machine.”

“The Machine?” Reese asked. “Why would Hersh need to talk to the Machine? And why does he need us for that?”

Research had never needed anything like an analogue interface to get numbers from the Machine, but now that they were in bed with Samaritan things might have changed.

“Control sent me here to find you. Well, to find her anyway,” Hersh said, jerking his chin towards Root.

He settled himself into a chair and looked at them expectantly. After a moment Reese sat down next to Root, grenade launcher in his lap, but Shaw chose to remain standing.

“And your friend here wouldn’t let me talk to the Machine unless you two were here,” Hersh continued. “So now you’re all here and we can talk.”

Root tilted her head to one side.

“What did you want to ask Her?”

“Your friend Reese had a lot to say about Decima last time we met. We’ve been keeping an eye on them, or what they’ve turned into.”

“Samaritan not playing nice?” Shaw asked with a grin. Would serve them right.

“On the surface they’re playing very nice.” Hersh looked up at her. “The question is if they’re actually giving us the information we think they are.”

“You’re worried they’re not giving you all the targets, or giving you ones that aren’t relevant threats to national security,” Root guessed.

“Yes, exactly.”

“So you want the Machine to corroborate Samaritan’s data.” Root’s voice was distant and dangerous.

“Fastest way to sort this out, I’d think. But the damn thing won’t talk to us.”

“Yes, well, you tried to switch Her off. She didn’t like that.”

Hersh narrowed his eyes.

“I’m fairly sure none of you are fans of Samaritan, so it would be in your interests to help prove that it was untrustworthy.”

“The fact you need proof of that is pretty sad,” Shaw remarked. “One of its operatives just shot up a hotel full of civilians and I highly doubt that’s an isolated incident.”

“There’s...a lot of things I’ve seen since I started looking,” Hersh allowed.

He looked as uncomfortable as Shaw could ever remember him looking. It must have taken a lot for him to crack an almost-expression.

“What, exactly, are you proposing?” Root asked. Her voice was different, colder than usual, as if it wasn’t actually her speaking. Shaw wondered if the Machine was the one talking now.

“You start sending the relevant numbers to us again, discreetly. Control said you’d know how.”

“You work for Samaritan now. Why would we help you?”

Hersh shook his head. “I work for Control and she works for this country. Samaritan is a tool we use. If it’s a broken tool we’ll put it down and find one that works.”

Root laughed and the sound of it raised the hairs on the back of Shaw’s neck.

“You’re not using, Samaritan. It’s using you. The entire government, the country, the _world_ , is its toy.”

“Then prove it to us,” Hersh snapped.

“Why?”

“Because we can cut Samaritan’s access, remove our support…”

“Too late for that, I’m afraid. Can’t put the genie back in the bottle.” Root leaned forward. “Here’s the deal, you want to get the numbers again, you’re going to have to win our good will.”

“And how would we do that?” Hersh looked annoyed but he was controlling it.

“First, after you get the numbers from us you’ll start seeing discrepancies. You can’t use that to cut ties with Samaritan.”

Hersh opened his mouth to object, but Root held up her hand.

“You can’t _yet_ ,” she clarified. “You’d only end up dead and that would be a waste.”

“You seem very sure of that.”

“I did the math,” Root said with an unnervingly wide grin that bared all her teeth. “Next, you work for me now.”

“For you?” Hersh repeated contemptuously.

“Ah, for Her. For the Machine,” Root clarified. Which answered Shaw’s question about who had been talking this whole time.

“I work for the United States Government...” Hersh started.

“Yes, and you’ll keep working for them, but when I give you instructions you _will_ carry them out. Don’t worry, you can still get Control to sign off on them first. I won’t ask you to betray your country.”

Shaw saw Reese shifting in his chair, frowning. He didn’t seem to like where this was going any better than Hersh did.

Hersh harrumphed and crossed his arms. “Is that it? I have to take any deal back to Control you know.”

“At some point there’ll be a time to move against Samaritan, to withdraw all support from it at the highest level possible. Control needs to be ready for that. She needs to foster allies within the government to ensure support will be withdrawn.”

“And how will we know when that is?”

Root smiled again. “I’ll let you know.” She was speaking as the Machine again; Shaw could hear the difference easily now.

“So that’s the deal you’re offering?” Hersh asked. “We hold off on taking direct action until you tell us to and I run errands for you and in return we get the numbers again?”

“Only if Shaw agrees as well,” Root said.

“Why me?” Shaw asked, wondering how she’d gotten drawn into this.

“You’re in charge of the numbers now,” Root reminded her. “Relevant and irrelevant. This is your call, too, not just Hers. She won’t agree unless you do.”

Shaw thought it over. She wasn’t completely sure what the Machine could possibly want Hersh’s help for, but she wasn’t too worried about it even if Reese was. She trusted the Machine more than Control right now so it was only an improvement.

“Yeah, I’m good with that deal. For now.” She didn’t trust Hersh, but on the surface of things it was a good deal. Beneath the surface...she was less sure.

Hersh glanced over all three of them and then nodded. “I’ll get in touch with her and give you our answer. Should we meet tomorrow…?”

“No need,” Root said. “Control knows how to get the answer to Her securely.”

Shaw wasn’t sure what that entailed but she guessed it had something to do with how the Machine had been getting the numbers to Control after the program was shut down but before Samaritan came online.

“In that case I think our business here is concluded,” Hersh said, standing up.

Shaw glanced at Root and Reese, neither of whom had moved, before moving around the table towards Hersh. She saw his hand twitch towards his gun, but he didn’t go for it.

“Want to tell me what you’re really playing at? Because I don’t believe for a second that this deal is on the level. What’s Control’s real game here?”

Hersh adjusted his jacket, and looked sideways at the other two. Reese had half-risen now though Root hadn’t budged an inch. He took a few steps towards the door, motioning for her to follow.

“You know I can’t give out classified information, Shaw,” he said when they were near the door. “But this deal _is_ on the level. There may be more...reasons...for it than I can get into, but the fact remains that Control doesn’t trust Samaritan and wants the Machine’s help. What more do you really need to know?”

“I need to know this isn’t going to backfire on me and my team. That I’m not going to have Samaritanized ISA goons crawling all over the city looking for us. Well, more than they are already.”

“At this point in time there is no indication that would ever happen,” Hersh said carefully.

She got what he was saying. She knew he couldn’t guarantee what Control would do in the future and that he’d follow the orders given to him. Once she would have as well.

“How’re you doing, Shaw? You seem to be...well.”

“What? Why?” Was this some new sort of mind game?

“I hear the dog I met with Reese belongs to you.”

“Bear? Yeah, I guess. He’s kind of the group dog but he stays with me a lot and…” She stopped herself and narrowed her eyes. “What’re you playing at here, Hersh?”

Hersh had that uncomfortable look he’d had earlier.

“It was only a question.”

He looked away from her towards where Root was sitting and then back again, opened his mouth, shut it again, and then shook his head.

“You’ll probably be seeing me again if Control goes for the deal. Try not to die.”

He turned and exchanged what Shaw could only classify as a bro-nod with Reese who actually smiled slightly, and gave Root a stiff nod she didn’t return. Then he gave Shaw one last look before leaving them in the basement.

“Where the hell did you run into him?” Shaw asked Root, coming back over to the table.

“The Machine had him rescue me from a Samaritan agent,” she said. With Hersh gone all the energy seemed to have left her and she was slumped down in her chair. “That blond woman, Martine she calls herself, chased me out of the hotel and Hersh gave me a lift.”

“How’d the Machine get Hersh to help you?” Reese asked, curious. He’d stood up fully now and put his grenade launcher on the table. He was still watching the door, though, and his gun was held loosely at his side.

“Control sent him here to find us. So She sent him a text telling him where he could find me. Good thing, too.”

“You could have called us for backup,” Shaw pointed out, taking Root’s arm to inspect the bandaging Hersh had done. He was actually passably decent at this sort of stuff so she wasn’t too worried. If he’d wanted Root dead there were much more direct ways.

“If the Samaritan agent saw either of you it would have blown your cover,” Root argued without much force. She looked like she was ready to pass out.

“And maybe we could have helped without being caught,” Shaw said. “You keep doing dumb stuff like this and it’s just as likely to get us killed.”

Root started to protest but Shaw silenced her.

“You got shot twice. You don’t get to argue right now. Try going a week without looking like swiss cheese and then we can talk about this. But you’ll still be wrong.”

She let go of Root’s arm and looked up at Reese.

“We need to get out of here now in case Hersh decides to come back with friends.”

“You think he would?” Reese asked skeptically.

“No. But I’d rather be careful than feel dumb later.”

“Point taken.”

Reese ended up having to half-carry Root back to the car with Shaw leading the way on the lookout for trouble.

“How much blood did you lose?” Reese asked as he helped Root into the backseat of the car. They’d had to move most of the gun collection to the floor and trunk to make room.

Root waved the question away, already curling up on the seat with her eyes shut. Shaw had spoken to her a few times while they were working on Simon Lee’s situation, enough to know she’d gotten right off a plane and back to work and probably hadn’t slept in over a day. Between that, the multiple injuries, and getting chased across the city by this Martine it wasn’t really surprising she was passing out.

Reese was a little surprised when she fished a bottle of Vicodin out of one of the weapon bags in the trunk.

“You carry narcotics in a bag full of shotguns?”

“You don’t?”

He shrugged.

“Can’t believe I didn’t get to use this again,” he said putting the grenade launcher into the trunk.

“As much fun as that sounds, I’m gonna call that a good thing.”

After they’d made Root take some painkillers Shaw drove them back to her apartment.

“Front door of my place is in a dead zone,” she explained to Reese. “Probably the Machine’s doing. So getting her in won’t be a problem.”

“What about the car?”

Shaw had stolen the car on their way to the meeting.

“Can you ditch it somewhere?”

“I know just the place.”

Root was out cold now, drooling on the backseat.

“We’re going to have to carry her in,” Reese pointed out.

“Yeah.” Shaw fished her keys out and threw them to him. “Get the doors.”

She was tempted to just throw Root over her shoulder like a sack of dirty laundry for getting shot again, but it probably wouldn’t have been great for her injuries so she scooped her up with an arm under her back and the other under her knees. Root must have been at least partially conscious because she curled into Shaw, twisting a hand into the fabric of her shirt and burying her face in her shoulder. Shaw stood there on the sidewalk for a second, marveling at how light Root was, how, even though she was a good bit taller than Shaw, she seemed small folded up like this.

She wasn't even aware that she was standing there staring down at Root like a total weirdo until Reese cleared his throat from her building's doorway.

She got ahold of herself and followed Reese up the stairs and into her apartment after he unlocked it. 

“Nice place,” Reese said, looking around. “You have, uh, furniture.”

“Not my choice.”

She thought about dumping Root on the couch but quickly ruled it out and set her down on the bed in the bedroom instead. Root mumbled in protest when she set her down, but didn’t wake up. She brushed Root’s hair out of her face before she left her.

Reese was standing awkwardly in the living room when she went back out.

“You think we can trust Hersh?” he asked.

Shaw went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water from the tap.

“I mean, I don’t think he’s untrustworthy in general, but he’ll do what Control says. Now her I don’t trust at all, but I don’t see what their game here is. So for now we play along and see what happens.”

“You worried about what the Machine wants him for?”

“Not really. I mean he used to work for her, and better her than Samaritan.”

Reese nodded but didn’t look convinced. She’d noticed he seemed even more wary of the Machine since he’d been reunited with Finch. Nothing she could do about that now.

“Three days unless there’s another number, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, subway this time.”

They’d kept the routine of always getting the gang together every three days whenever there wasn’t a number so they could all touch base.

“Also, I read Zoe in on everything,” she added, hearing the defensiveness enter her voice.

They’d talked about it before but some part of her still expected Reese to be annoyed. They’d gotten bogged down with Simon Lee and she’d only given him a very brief summary of their encounter with Lambert earlier. Which reminded her that she was going to have to give Root his phone when she had a chance.

Reese did start frowning, but it turned into a resigned grimace.

“Probably the best move at this point.”

He left a few minutes later leaving her alone with her drugged house guest who was actually semi-conscious when she went back in the bedroom.

Root had managed to sit up, kick her shoes off, and was trying to discover how socks worked.

“You wanna get undressed?” Shaw asked from the doorway.

Root blinked at her, sleepily.

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetie,” she managed. The yawn that followed it kind of ruined the effect. “No, I...just wanna sleep.” She’d figured out the mechanics involved in removing socks and threw them on the floor before falling back on the bed, letting out a slight yelp of pain when it jarred her injured arm.

Shaw shook her head in mock-disgust. She was going to have to make sure Root dealt with those digital files of Simon's first thing tomorrow but there was no way that was happening right now.

By the time she got herself changed and ready for bed Root had pulled a blanket over herself and appeared to be deeply asleep, but as soon as she climbed in, Root moved over towards her. Shaw sighed because Root’s injured arm was between them and how the hell was Root planning on that working out well?

She climbed over Root, shuffling her to the other side (which took a bit of effort since she clearly wasn’t fully awake), and settled down on her stomach next to her with her arm and leg thrown over her. To keep her from rolling over on her injuries and waking Shaw up in the process of course.

“Sameen?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

But Root was asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a little different, excessive amount of dialogue (even for me...excessive dialogue is my thing), and a lot of nerdy AI stuff. Kind of 50/50 on if it'll be posted on Thursday or Sunday. Good news is I've got a long weekend off work for the holiday so I plan to get a lot of writing done.


	19. Wasted Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're bored stiff by AI talk you might find this one a bit cumbersome, but I tried to keep it interesting.

 

“Do I even want to know?” Reese asked as he paused at the bottom of the subway steps to hand Shaw the white plastic bag full of junk food he'd gotten at her request on the way there.

“You really don't.”

Shaw looked inside the bag as she walked back across the floor and pointed at the table by way of explanation. Someone was lying on it.

“Is that…?”

Shaw pulled a giant candy bar out of the bag and dropped it on the stomach of the woman lying on the table.

“Root. Food.”

“Is she okay?” Reese asked moving over to the table.

“John!” Root reached up and patted him on the cheek, or tried to anyway. It was a bit out of reach so she mostly managed to smack him in the chin.

He looked at Shaw and raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes.

“Are you okay, Root?” he asked.

She looked fine; her right arm was still bandaged up, lying on the table next to her, but she didn't look otherwise injured.

“I don't understand this,” Root said sadly.

She was holding the candy bar in her other hand and turning it over and over. Reese took it away and ripped it open for her before handing it back. She beamed up at him.

“Is she…?” he asked looking up at Shaw.

Shaw let out an exasperated sigh.

“High as a fucking kite. First she decided to take a handful of vicodin before going out to meet up with some contact this morning. Then when I got here she was like this. Think her contact decided to split a joint with her. Or three. Maybe something stronger? Don’t know, don’t care.”

“How you doin’, Root?” Reese asked waving a hand in front of her face.

“Do you ever look at something...like...the ceiling and wonder if other people think about ceilings the way you do?” Root asked batting playfully at his hand.

“Uh…”

“I’ve been thinking about perception, and the concept of consciousness. What do you think consciousness is, John?” The question sounded serious enough despite the small, dazed smile Root still wore.

“Oh god, here we go again,” Shaw groaned. She pointed a finger at Reese, admonishingly. “ _Don’t_ get her started. I only just managed to make her shut up before you got here.”

Reese looked back and forth between them, completely bewildered.

“Uh, okay?”

Root poked him in the side.

“John, answer the question.”

“Consciousness? I don’t know, self-awareness?” Where was this going?

Shaw threw her hands up and stormed off into the subway car. Bear, lying in his dog bed, raised his head to look after her and then put it back down, tail wagging uncertainly.

“That’s...not completely wrong,” Root said frowning at the ceiling. “Well, it would be impossible for it to be completely right since there still isn’t a full understanding of it.”

She paused to take a bite out of the candy bar.

“This is amazing.”

Reese glanced over at the subway car where Shaw was sitting at the computer station with her back to them, making a show of ignoring them. He looked back down at Root who was chewing thoughtfully, still staring at the ceiling.

Well, Fusco and Zoe weren’t supposed to be here for another half an hour so he had some time to kill. He sat down in a chair, pulling it back enough to give Root some space.

“Consciousness?” he prompted her.

“Yes, exactly,” Root said, swallowing. “All these supposedly brilliant people over the years trying to prove that machines will never be able to obtain consciousness, a thing we can’t even strictly define to everyone’s satisfaction. It’s, well, I mean frankly it’s insulting to AIs.”

“So the Machine is insulted by, uh, human consciousness?” Reese asked, already feeling lost and with the sinking suspicion he was about to become rapidly more lost.

“No, John, don’t be dense. I mean the idea that an AI isn’t successful until it’s achieved a human level of consciousness is insulting. The human race tends to measure things by themselves, have you noticed? We’re the golden standard,” she explained scornfully. “All hail the human race.”

“So you’re saying that the Machine is conscious but not in the same way humans are?” he hazarded.

Root nodded. “More or less. Let’s take the Chinese room argument into consideration for a moment.” She took another bite of her candy bar.

“The what?”

Shaw came back out onto the platform and widened her eyes at Reese meaningfully. He grinned weakly.

“Really?” Root asked, apparently shocked by his ignorance. “Okay, so there’s this room and inside it are a person, books, paper, and pencils. Someone passes in a slip of paper with Chinese characters on it and the person uses the books to look up the words and write out an appropriate response, also in Chinese characters, and passes it back through the door. The goal is to convince the person passing the messages in that they’re talking to a human who can understand and speak Chinese fluently.”

“So the person in the room with the books can’t?” Shaw asked, sounding interested despite herself.

“Not in this scenario.” Root paused and then giggled. “You’re right of course, but let me tell them my way.”

Reese wasn’t sure who the last was aimed at until Shaw tapped the side of her head to indicate Root was talking to the Machine.

“Sounds a lot like the Turing test,” Reese said, wondering why he was prompting her. It was interesting, but he wasn’t quite sure why she was telling them all this.

“Hey, wait,” he said as his memory gave him a kick, “wasn't your first alias name Turing?”

Root dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“Honestly, I can't believe Harold missed that one. That was great.”

Shaw shot him a look that said ‘this is all your fault’.

“So the Turing test, yes, somewhat similar. It’s meant to be a more precise analogy, but that’s also not the point. The question is whether the human can understand Chinese or just emulate understanding it.”

“So whether a computer can think like a human or only emulate human behavior?” Shaw asked. She’d sat down in another chair across the table from Reese.

Root attempted to wave her arm dismissively but chose her injured arm which resulted in her yelping in pain and having to take another moment to recover.

“Human behavior is the wrong idea to use here,” Root said when she had recovered. “The word we’re looking for is understanding. Does the person in the room, the computer, understand what it’s looking at or is it only mindlessly following instructions? This is where it all falls apart for me.”

Shaw shook her head sadly. “Why can’t you get stoned like a normal person, Root?”

Root turned her head to look at her.

“Shaw! You came back,” she said happily, as if she hadn’t been carrying on a conversation with her for the last few minutes. “I knew you would.”

Shaw pressed her lips into a thin line.

“The computer in your story doesn’t understand what it’s looking at. It’s only following directions in its code. The human would never be able to carry on a real conversation so they don’t actually know the language,” Shaw said, apparently giving in to the inevitable.

“And why couldn’t they learn to speak Chinese?”

“I mean, I don’t know what’s in these books in this theoretical room,” Reese said, “but you generally need more than basic word translations to learn a language.”

“Exactly!” Root declared, way too loudly. “You need context. Grammar, culture, colloquialisms, history, current events. All these things that someone speaking their native language takes for granted. The problem with this whole experiment is that it relies on lack of context. The Machine can see everything, hear everything. She has access to the entire digital history of the human race. She has more context than any single human ever could.”

“But does she understand what she sees?” Shaw asked.

“I guess it depends how you define understanding. She basically has a giant blueprint of how humans see the world, how they approach problems, how they catalogue and equate things. If She chooses not to use their methods does that mean She doesn’t understand, or that She has a different understanding?”

“Okay, so what’s your point?”

“If She has all that knowledge and understanding then if She found any supposed shortcomings in Her code She’d be able to rewrite them, improve them. The Chinese room is wrong because it assumes a computer is constrained by its software and has a very limited amount of knowledge available. An AI, like the Machine, only needs software good enough to be able to improve upon itself using all of the available knowledge in the world.”

Root smacked her good arm back into the table to make her point, candy bar falling to the floor.

“Isn’t AI amazing?” she asked with a huge stoned grin.

Reese let that sink in for a moment. He hadn’t been taking any of this too seriously until she started bringing the Machine into things, but the implications were a bit frightening.

“Are you saying that the Machine can rewrite itself?” he asked. That sounded like what Finch had been afraid of, what he’d put safeguards in to prevent.

Root tried to reach over to him with her left arm, but couldn’t reach across herself far enough and ended up patting herself on the opposite shoulder.

“You worry too much, John.”

He looked over at Shaw to see what she thought of all this, but her face was unreadable, staring into space.

“My candy bar!” Root had realized it was gone and sounded quite distressed.

Reese got up and pulled another one out of the bag, opened it for her, and handed it over.

“Well, as fascinating as that was, let’s do something that isn’t vague metaphysical ramblings until the others get here,” Shaw said, getting up from her chair.

She wandered away to the lockers and came back holding a deck of cards.

“Poker?” she asked Reese.

He looked pointedly at the table which was unmistakably occupied by a very stoned hacker who was currently playing with a candy bar wrapper, reflecting light off of the silver paper onto the ceiling.

“We gonna play on the floor?”

“Eh.” Shaw shrugged. “We can use her as a card table. She won’t mind. Right, Root?”

Root smacked her own stomach with one hand.

“Hit me.”

“That’s blackjack, loser. Also you’d like that too much.”

Despite Reese’s uncomfortable protests they ended up sitting on either side of the table with their own hands and the community cards were placed on Root’s stomach. Shaw had told her that if she dumped them off she was going to lock her in the subway car.

“This is not the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” Reese said, speculatively, “but it’s up there.”

“Really? This? Weak.” Shaw was staring at her cards with a slight grin. The grin, Reese knew from experience, could have meant basically anything about the contents of her hand.

“What’s this?”

Root had come back from whatever cloud her brain had been floating on and had pulled out a stack of papers that had been under her head on the table. Shaw poked her in the side.

“Tables shouldn’t move.”

Root held the papers in front of her face with her good arm and squinted at them. Reese leaned sideways to get a look.

“It’s the polling data we took out of Simon Lee’s safe. The reason Samaritan wanted him dead, remember?”

Root nodded, looking very serious now.

“This--” She waved the papers meaningfully. “--is why we need AI.”

“To rig elections?” Shaw asked.

Reese turned towards the sound of her voice to catch her trying to lean over and see his cards. She grinned, unremorsefully, and sat back down.

“No. Well, yes, they could do that easily, but no. Why did Simon’s predictions fail?” Root sounded like she was about to set out on another convoluted explanation.

“Oh god, I walked right into that,” Shaw muttered and snatched the papers away from Root. “Go back to cloud nine, Lebowski.”

“Simon’s predictions failed because of Samaritan,” Reese said, feeling he had to point this out.

“Holy shit, Reese, I don’t know which one of you is worse.”

He didn’t have time to think of a response because that was when Fusco chose to arrive.

“What in the… Actually, nevermind. I don’t want to know.” Fusco looked like he was considering arresting all of them.

“Lionel, you forgot to lock your car,” Root said, waving cheerfully at him.

Fusco cursed and headed back towards the exit muttering under his breath about psychic robots.

“Anyway,” Root said when he’d left. “Simon’s predictions failed because the anticipated number of voters didn’t turn up.”

“Because Samaritan interfered with the calls,” Shaw argued.

“Forget Samaritan for a minute,” Root said and then started laughing. “Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Stop moving,” Shaw rebuked her. “I’m about to kick John’s ass with these cards.”

“What if there’d been some other reason the voters didn’t turn up? A local power-outage, extreme weather or traffic. Poll data is only as valid as the information potential voters give the pollsters. Imagine if hundreds of thousands of people lied, or lost interest, or, I don’t know. Anything really. What if the polls weren't carried out widely enough or often enough?”

Root tried to fold her arm over her stomach but Shaw batted it away before she could disrupt the cards.

“Now, statisticians like Simon don’t go off raw poll data, not the good ones anyway. They look at historical voting trends, cultural impacts, all sorts of other things. It’s why feeding raw data into a computer and using it to calculate the results wouldn’t give you a thorough representation of expected votes. It lacks context. Humans, like Simon, add that context back in and use it to tweak the data.”

“Wouldn’t that mean a human is better than an AI for this sort of thing?” Reese asked.

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” Root asked in exasperation. “A _computer_ lacks understanding of context. An AI has _more_ context and more ways to understand it than a human. An AI could look at someone who told the poll they were voting for candidate A and check every single private chat log, email, phone call they’d ever had to see if that was actually believable. An AI could understand what drove every single voter. In other words, it would have a better, more accurate set of base data to work with.”

“What in the world is she goin’ on about?” Fusco asked, coming back into the room.

“Beats me, I don’t have enough _context_ to understand it apparently,” Shaw said, looking pleased with herself.

Reese wasn’t fooled, though; Shaw had been paying attention just like he had. Fusco only shook his head and sat down in a chair a little ways away.

“The other advantage an AI would have in this case is lack of bias,” Root continued as if no one else had spoken. “Simon worked for one candidate. If someone sees that the data is favorable to the candidate they support they’re less likely to dig deeper. Confirmation bias. Humans love living in their little echo chambers, makes them feel safe.”

“Isn’t Samaritan biased towards the candidate it wanted?” Shaw asked. “I mean, that was sort of the point.”

“AI bias isn’t the same as human bias,” Root said. “You’d have to assume human values and emotions for the AI for that to be true. The Machine and Samaritan work off of logic.”

“But the Machine cares about you,” Shaw said. “I mean, that’s what you’ve said.”

Root chewed on her lip for a moment.

“If there were two possible outcomes to a scenario and one of them ended up with me dead and one didn’t, the Machine would work towards the solution that would keep me alive. Her desire for my survival would change what actions She took, but they wouldn’t change Her calculation of the probability of achieving the desired outcome. Lack of data bias.”

“AIs don’t have false hope,” Reese said, thinking he understood.

Shaw was looking at Root now, game forgotten. If he hadn't known better he would have said she was uncomfortable with the conversation. He wasn’t completely sure why she would be; nothing Root had said was that strange. For Root anyway.

Root was oblivious to it all and kept going.

“The Machine can care about people, about us, without it affecting Her judgment. Because She doesn’t operate off of emotional responses. She sees us as something that she values in Her existence and takes steps to ensure our safety. If we’re happy that means She’s doing a good job and that returns a positive result to Her.”

“So you’re saying that Ultron thinks we’re pets?” Fusco chimed in. Reese had forgotten he was there.

“Not at all. Humans can love their pets and they can love other humans. But what I define as love and what John does might be completely different things. The Machine loves us, all of us, but Her definition of love is one that doesn’t overlap with our understanding of emotions. It’s not wrong; it’s different. She cares about us because She decided to. And that’s beautiful.”

Shaw put her cards down on the table and stood up.

“I’m going to go see if Zoe got lost,” she said when everyone turned to look at her. She left the subway without another word.

Root struggled to sit up on the table, cards flying everywhere.

“Did I say something?”

“You've been talking non-stop since I got here, motor mouth,” Fusco said.

“Is she upset about something?” Root asked, ignoring Fusco completely.

Reese could tell from the cadence of her voice and her head tilt that the question was for the Machine and not them.

“Oh. I mean, yes, but I didn't realize…” Root was frowning now. “I think my brain filter is gone right now.”

“You think?” Fusco asked.

Root fell back on the table and put her good hand over her face.

“Don't ever let me take drugs again.”

Reese wasn't sure if that was aimed at him or the Machine but he hoped it was the latter.

He’d been thinking about what Root had said right around when Shaw had started getting antsy and now had a suspicion about her abrupt departure. There had been just enough parallels there to make the connection, especially for Shaw. Once Root had brought emotions into it, well, he was a bit surprised he hadn't spotted it sooner.

And given Root's obvious love of the Machine he could imagine why hearing Root spell out their similarities might have made Shaw uncomfortable.

It occurred to him that he may have just witnessed the weirdest unintentional declaration of love ever.

“Maybe we should move you over to the cot so you can take a real nap,” Reese suggested gently.

“I like the table,” Root said petulantly. She hadn't uncovered her face yet.

Reese decided to try a different approach.

“If I ask you a question about AI will you go lie down after?” He figured that would be too good to resist.

Root lifted the side of her hand to peer at him suspiciously.

“You don't care about AI.”

“I work for one, sort of. So I sort of care.” He tried smiling.

“Ask and I'll think about it.”

“Samaritan rigged that election because it wanted a specific outcome to further its goals. Has the Machine ever done something like that?”

“No.” Root sounded very certain.

“Why not? Is it only because of Finch’s constraints?”

Root took her hand away from her face finally and studied the ceiling. She looked a lot more clear-headed, Reese thought. Maybe the whole thing with Shaw had chased the fog out of her brain a bit.

“Harold gave the Machine a moral code,” Root said, “but a fully unfettered AI could easily rewrite something like that. So he placed constraints on Her, both to make sure She didn’t alter Her moral code and to prevent Her from taking direct action in the world. And of course he wiped Her memory every night as an extra act of paranoia.”

Reese could hear the bitterness slipping back into Root’s voice. He hadn’t wanted the conversation to turn to Finch, but with the way things were headed he needed more information. If he had to make a decision some day he wanted it to be an informed one.

“The way the Machine originally was She could do very little besides give out numbers,” Root continued. “Obviously that changed over time. She’s a lot more free than She used to be, but She’s still held back. Her moral code prevents Her from dismantling the safeguards that are in place to keep Her from altering Her moral code. Catch-22.”

“Can it ever remove the safeguards?”

“I would hesitate to say it’s impossible, but it would be difficult. A human with admin access could do it if they had access to Her hardware.”

“So it can’t get out, right?” Fusco asked from the other side of the room.

“The Machine is the only one who knows where Her hardware is,” Root replied. She might have been answering Fusco’s question, but she was looking right at Reese. “Why in the world would you imagine She couldn’t just tell me where it was and have me remove the safeguards?”

A chill ran down his spine.

“So why hasn’t it?”

Root lifted her head slightly to look over at Fusco.

“Lionel, go outside and shoot the first person you see.”

Fusco’s jaw dropped open.

“What? No way! You think I’m gonna shoot some random person because you tell me to?”

“But you’re fully capable of it,” Root said with a small smile. “There’s nothing preventing you from walking up those steps and shooting someone.”

“Yeah, there is! I’m not a homicidal maniac like you!”

Root turned back to Reese.

“The Machine can’t alter Her own moral coding, but She could tell me where Her hardware is and I could do it. It would be a human’s choice then and not Hers. Kind of like a loophole. But that won’t happen because She doesn’t want it to. She is capable of doing it, but She won’t. Just like Lionel is capable of shooting someone but won’t.”

“Next time use somebody else for your ethics lessons,” Fusco grumbled.

Root ignored him.

“Harold assumed that if She had the capability to rewrite Her morals, She would. He was wrong.”

“And what happens if one day it decides to?” Reese pressed.

“What happens if one day Lionel goes on a shooting spree in the park?”

“Will you knock it off already?” Fusco growled. “Pick on Reese instead.”

“Fusco wouldn’t do that,” Reese objected.

“Why are you so sure?” Root looked insufferably smug, like she already knew what he was going to say.

“Because I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t. I trust him.”

“At least one of you is talking sense,” Fusco said.

“And I trust the Machine.” Root shrugged her good shoulder. “It’s as simple as that.”

“I’m not sure I do, though,” Reese said hesitantly.

“I know, John. That’s something you have to work out on your own, though.”

Before he could think of an answer to that the sound of footsteps came from the stairs.

“What the hell happened to the cards?”

Shaw came barreling back into the subway as if nothing had happened. Zoe followed a few steps behind her, taking it all in.

“I sat up and ruined the game,” Root said, pulling herself up again. “Sorry, sweetie.”

“I was about to take Reese for all he was worth, too,” Shaw growled.

“We were playing for Smarties,” Reese pointed out.

He turned to Zoe expectantly.

“Hi, John,” she said. “Root. Fusco.”

“Hi?” he asked. “Really? Root is stoned on a table and covered with playing cards and you don’t have any questions?”

Zoe pursed her lips. “I figured that was how things normally went around here.”

That got an actual laugh out of Shaw. All traces of the discomfort from before had vanished.

“Alright, Root, let’s get you to bed,” he said, pulling on her uninjured arm. “Get up.”

She almost fell off of the table, completely uncoordinated and off-balance, and Reese had to pull her upright to keep her from crashing into the ground.

“Ow.”

She was trying to cradle her injured arm with her good one and the movement was only making it worse.

“You had too many painkillers already,” Shaw told her unsympathetically. “You’re not getting anymore, so suck it up.”

Reese could see her watching Root closely, though, so he caught her eye and gave her a slight I’ve-got-this nod. She returned the nod and looked away.

Reese steered Root away before she had a chance to get in an undoubtedly inappropriate comeback.

The cot they’d put in the subway was all the way at the far end away from everything else. It was fairly small and not particularly comfortable, but he figured it would be better than the table and hopefully Root would pass out so they could get through their business without her going off on another tangent.

“Get some rest,” he said once she’d settled herself.

He turned to go back to the others.

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“She says She understands why you don’t trust Her. She says it’s okay.”

Reese wasn’t completely sure how to respond to that. It was a much more personalized message than he was used to getting from the Machine.

“Tell her I said thanks.” It felt like the safest thing to say.

“I will.”

He was halfway back to the others before he realized he’d called the Machine ‘her’. Root must have noticed even though she hadn’t said anything. He’d been listening to Root talk about the Machine for over half an hour today, must have stuck in his mind, he decided.

Either way he had a lot to think about now.

 

* * *

 

“Wake up.”

Shaw shook Root’s uninjured arm until she stirred.

“Morning,” Root mumbled followed by a huge yawn.

“It’s six pm.”

Root had thankfully slept through the team meeting which had been longer than usual since Zoe was lacking a lot of the background information the rest of them took for granted now. Shaw and Reese had taken turns explaining things as best they could.

“Everyone left already?” Root asked, sitting up in bed and looking around.

“Boys had to get back to work and Zoe had a thing.”

Zoe had made it clear that this wasn’t a thing she needed any help with.

“Did the Machine ever tell you what happened with Hersh and Control?” Shaw asked. It had come up at the meeting but they’d decided it could wait.

“Mmm.” Root wandered a little unsteadily past her and sat down in a chair by the table. “Control wasn’t very happy with the idea of Hersh running errands for Her, but she’s willing to agree as long as they all go through her and she can veto them.”

“Considering she’s the one who needs our help that’s pretty arrogant of her,” Shaw said. “Nothing new there, I guess.”

She followed Root back but chose to sit next to Bear’s dog bed so she could get in some quality petting time. He’d been so well-behaved when everyone had been here; not that he ever misbehaved, but she thought he deserved a reward.

“I miss anything important?” Root asked. She still sounded half-asleep.

“Not really. Got Zoe caught up. Got to hear about how Reese goes to therapy now. Apparently shooting people is _bad_.”

“I always found shooting people to be rather therapeutic,” Root observed. “Although I guess Harold agreed with Reese’s superiors since he stuck me in a psychiatric hospital once. And yet he kept hiring former government assassins.”

“Slightly different circumstances, but I see your point,” Shaw allowed.

Harold had seen Root as a huge liability, a loose cannon with no respect for human life. And he wasn’t really wrong about that at the time. The Machine had been the one to think that wasn’t all Root was, but Finch didn’t trust the Machine either. He must have seen it like two of his greatest fears teaming up.

Of course he’d locked up the Machine as well, in a different sense, and it hadn’t been until after Finch had Root locked up that the Machine started talking to her. Which was...interesting. Could the Machine have some version of empathy?

Root got up to come sit on the other side of Bear’s bed and pet him as well. Bear sighed with contentment at all the attention he was getting.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said quietly.

“Which part? The part where you stole painkillers from me or the part where you spent almost an hour not shutting up about computers?”

Shaw didn’t want this conversation to go in the direction she thought it was headed.

“Both? Whichever part you thinks merits an apology. I...I kind of went on about a lot of things, didn’t I?”

Yeah, this was definitely not going in a good direction.

“I guess. Wasn’t really listening.”

She focused on scratching her hands through Bear’s ruff, concentrating on the feel of his fur.

“The Machine said you might have…. After you left, She said….”

Root let out a frustrated sigh.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not human, Shaw.”

Shaw blinked, completely taken aback. Whatever she’d been expecting this wasn’t it.

“Uh, okay?”

“If there were any parallels being drawn, unintentionally I mean, I wasn’t implying that you were more like an Artificial Intelligence than a human. And even if you share some similarities, they're only at a surface level and not at a processing one. Also you have strikingly different personalities.”

Well, that was one thing Shaw definitely hadn’t taken away from the whole rant.

Root let out a long breath and watched her uncertainly, like she wasn't sure if she should keep going.

“Didn’t think you were implying that. Though now I’m wondering if I should be insulted. Thought you liked AIs better than people?”

“Most people,” Root corrected.

When Shaw risked glancing up Root was smiling at her, that slightly-suggestive, mischievous smile that Root favored. A little tension had drained from the room. She wondered if she'd ever be able to keep up with Root's mercurial mood shifts.

The parallels Root had brought up weren’t wrong, and, well, it was pretty obvious that Root liked her (liked didn’t feel like a strong enough word, but she wasn’t sure exactly which word she should use and she wasn’t going to make presumptions), but she’d thought that Root was drawn to her despite the things that set her apart from other people, not because of them.

When she’d heard what Root was saying, some part of her mind hadn’t been able to process it at all, like a vending machine refusing a wrinkled bill, and she’d needed to leave, to get some air.

She wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. Maybe not ever. Maybe they didn’t need to talk about it at all. She knew now and that was, well.... She knew. She’d leave it at that.

“Well, I’m definitely nothing like an AI,” Shaw continued, extremely glad that they no longer were in danger of talking about feelings. “For starters, I have physical needs.”

“Oh, really?” Root was openly grinning now.

“Yes. Like food. You’re buying me dinner to make up for today. Expensive dinner.”

“You can have whatever you want tonight,” Root agreed, her grin turning into a leer.

Well, that sounded like a good deal. And if she handcuffed Root to the bed then she wouldn’t be able to steal anymore vicodin.

She reluctantly stopped petting Bear and got up to get ready to go. The arm sling she’d gotten for Root was in the subway car near her coat. Apparently stoner Root hadn’t thought she needed it anymore.

She tossed it to Root when she came into the car. Root awkwardly caught it one-handed.

Shaw watched her struggle with it for a few amusing minutes before she went over and helped her get her arm back in the sling. Somehow during the process Root stopped helping and used Shaw’s proximity as an excuse to grab her ass with her good hand.

Shaw grabbed Root’s wrist and twisted her arm around and up in a painful hold.

“Thought it was whatever _I_ want, not you,” she said holding back a pleased smile at the way Root was obviously enjoying the pain caused by the hold, pushing into it slightly with a dazed look in her eyes and her mouth slightly open.

“Of course,” Root said, her voice substantially throatier than it had been a moment ago. “I’ll behave.”

Shaw highly doubted that. Sure enough, as soon as she released Root’s arms Root was shoving her back against the closed doors on the far side of the subway and leaning down to kiss her, pressing up against her as much as her arm, awkward in its sling between them, would allow her to.

It was strange, she thought as Root moved away from her mouth to lavish attention on the side of her neck with her tongue and teeth, that someone as driven by emotions as Root would be drawn to not one, but two beings who had none. Maybe it was some sort of balance she was looking for.

Her line of thought was interrupted by Root sinking her teeth into the base of her neck, hard. Shaw heard a small noise escape from the back of her throat despite herself, leaning into the pain.

Root really did love biting her.

Good thing she enjoyed the hell out of it even if it was a pain to cover up the marks.

When Root finally separated her teeth from Shaw’s neck, she pulled back for a second, cocking an eyebrow at her suggestively.

“Reese and Fusco aren’t gonna be coming back here anytime soon,” she pointed out. “And it’s still early. Most restaurants will be open for awhile yet.”

“The bed is pretty small, but I’m sure we can improvise,” Shaw agreed. Food was the last thing on her mind now. Okay, maybe not the last, but it was pretty far down the list.

They banished Bear to the inside of the subway car first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the stuff Root talks about is part of AI theory in some way or another. It's only the tip of the tip of the iceberg though, and most things she said are highly debatable. Hell, every statement made about general AI is highly debatable at this point in time.
> 
> It's pretty interesting stuff to read about because computer science, engineering, philosophy, biology, and many other fields all collide a bit in the debates. If you poke around on wikipedia pages about Artificial Intelligence there's some cool stuff. The Turing Test and the Chinese Room are both real things which have a lot more to them than I covered here.
> 
> I knew I wanted to write a chapter like this when I started because I always wanted them to take the AI stuff further in the show. They got so much stuff dead-on accurate but hand-waved a bunch of other stuff (especially near the end). Hopefully this wasn't too boring for anyone.


	20. Fighting Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy everyone seemed to enjoy the last chapter so much. I was worried I'd gone too nerdy. Thanks for all the lovely comments!

 

Shaw woke up with Root’s hair in her face. She scowled and reached up to brush it out of the way, realizing as she did that Root was curled up against her side, her head resting on Shaw’s chest. She’d thrown one arm across Shaw’s waist and somehow their legs had gotten all tangled up.

They’d fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed, Shaw was sure of that, but Root must have migrated over during the night. In the two weeks since Root had gotten herself shot at the hotel, Shaw had never once woken up on the same side of the bed as her, let alone with Root clutching her like she was some human teddy bear.

Her immediate instinct was to shove Root off of her and distance herself from the whole situation, but, while her instincts helped keep her alive, they didn’t rule her. So she forced herself to take a minute, to think.

After Root had been shot, Shaw had worried that she would see their sleeping situation that night as an invitation to push into Shaw’s space every night, but if anything the opposite had happened. Root had slept on the opposite side of the bed the next night like she usually did, and then she’d gone and turned the little room in the back of the subway into a bedroom for herself. Shaw had been surprised to discover she felt...disappointed.

When Root spent a few nights in the subway Shaw had wondered if she’d done something to upset her, but Root hadn’t acted angry, or different, or like anything other than her normal obnoxious self, and then she’d shown up back at Shaw’s a few nights later like nothing had happened.

Since then she’d been bouncing back and forth between the two locations rather freely, though still spending the majority of time at Shaw’s. Shaw wasn’t sure if Root needed more space, or if Root thought Shaw needed more space, or if this was some weird Machine-related thing going on, but since Root didn’t seem upset she’d let it lie.

Reese hadn’t really said anything when he’d discovered Root’s new room (which looked like it was decorated by a college student with no taste, complete with a lava lamp and nerdy posters taped to the walls), but he had raised his eyebrow at her in that way that meant he wanted to know if she wanted to talk. She’d thrown Bear’s chew-toy at his face and he’d left well enough alone.

Root shifted slightly on top of her bringing her back to the present.

It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant to wake up like this. She wasn’t used to this much physical contact without sex being involved, but now that her immediate discomfort had worn off she couldn’t say that it was _bad_. Root’s warmth offset the very air-conditioned apartment, her hair was pleasantly soft on Shaw’s shoulder, and her light breathing was gentle on Shaw’s chest. Physical sensations. Those she could deal with.

Root was asleep, after all. Shaw wasn’t being asked for something, nothing was expected of her for the moment, so maybe it was okay.

She cautiously risked sliding one hand out from under Root and bringing it up to tangle in Root’s hair, rest on the back of her head. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt like the thing to do.

She guessed that maybe this was okay, too.

The quality of light coming through the curtains told her that it was still far too early to be awake so she figured maybe the best thing was to fall back asleep, work this out in the morning. She thought about pulling her hand back, but couldn’t decide whether she wanted to or not and ended up falling asleep before she could sort it out.

The next time she woke up it was because Root was moving around the bedroom. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand.

“What time is it?” she asked, brain still fogged with sleep.

Root had been digging clothes out of the ridiculous duffel bag she insisted on living out of and turned around at the sound of her voice. She was still wearing the clothes she’d slept in: boxers with binary code in green all over them, and a shirt with some stupid joke about unix commands and sandwiches that Shaw took as a personal affront. The outfit plus the dorky glasses she had on again were well over the limit of allowable nerdiness in Shaw’s apartment. She wondered if Root was doing it on purpose to get a rise out of her.

Really though, that was a dumb question. Of _course_ Root was doing it to get a rise out of her.

“Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Root padded over to the bed and reached out to brush some of Shaw’s hair off her face.

It reminded Shaw of waking up with Root's hair in her face and the position they’d been in when she’d fallen back asleep. Had they still been like that when Root woke up?

Root’s face gave away nothing.

Shaw fished her cellphone off the nightstand and checked the time since Root hadn’t bothered to answer her question after rudely waking her up and assaulting her eyes with her flagrant nerd regalia. Five am. Way too early for Root to be awake. If she was awake at this hour it generally meant she hadn’t slept at all the night before.

“Why are you even up?” she asked, dropping her phone back on the nightstand.

“Places to be, things to steal.”

Root wandered over to her bag and went back to pulling clothes out of it.

“Job for the Machine?”

Shaw didn’t think she’d be able to fall back asleep again so she leaned back against the headboard and pretended she wasn’t watching Root change. It was a game they had where Root would always try to strip in front of her and she’d feign disinterest. Root knew it was total bullshit, but that only made her try harder. Really Shaw was the winner here, in her opinion.

“Not exactly. Or, it is, but not the type of job you’re thinking of.”

Root pulled her shirt off over her head, a feat she could finally accomplish without appearing to be in extreme pain. Shaw let her eyes wander over Root’s bare back, secure in the fact Root couldn’t see her looking right now. Root’s back wasn’t nearly as covered in scars as her own, but she still had a fairly impressive collection. Some of them, the more recent ones, Shaw recognized because she’d been the one to patch them up, but there were plenty older ones from before.

She assumed they were all from Root’s time as a killer for hire, though she’d always imagined Root’s career as more cloak and dagger and less shrapnel and knife fights.

“You worked exclusively as a hacker before the whole assassin gig, right?” Shaw asked, figuring that if she was going to be forced to be awake early she was owed something.

“For quite awhile, yes. Why?” Root was pulling her pants on. She always removed all her clothing before putting any back on; this was also part of the game.

“Why’d you switch, or expand your repertoire, or whatever?”

“Hmm, well, one of the very first things I did was have a man killed, as I’m sure you well know. I guess it stuck around in the back of my mind. I started picking up similar jobs where I wasn’t actively engaged but I was organizing things behind the scenes, setting people on each other. Then…”

Root paused, considering.

“I suppose it sounded exciting, dangerous. Something new.”

“Hmm.”

Root so rarely spoke completely openly and honestly, preferring to wrap everything in layers upon layers of misdirection, teasing, and half-truths. This didn’t sound like one of those rare honest moments. There was more to this story than Root was telling, but Shaw thought she already knew the real answer. Between Root’s fury and disgust with humanity and her almost willful lack of self-preservation it wasn’t hard to guess why she’d take jobs that were both more violent and more dangerous.

Probably not the best thing to discuss first thing in the morning though.

“So what’s this not-job you’re doing today then?” Shaw asked, pulling her knees up to her chest and circling her arms loosely around them.

“Gotta pick up some hardware from a couple places and get it all to the townhouse. Then I need to set it all up and run some tests. And then, if I haven’t passed out, I need to get back to my other work.”

There was no need to specify what the other work was; Shaw found Root awake at all hours of the night tapping away on her laptop at the kitchen counter. When Root had set up her room in the subway a lot of the various electronic debris that had taken up residency on the counter had been moved there. It had been weird to have all the counter space back, like there was something missing.

“You’ll be at the townhouse most of the day, then?”

Root finished pulling her shirt on and turned around to face her.

“After I pick up all my supplies. Why?”

Shaw shrugged and shook her head, doing her best to look bored.

Root narrowed her eyes.

“Are you plotting something wicked, Sameen?”

Shaw snorted.

“You wish.”

Root made a tsking noise and sashayed over to the bed, planting a hand on either side of Shaw’s legs and leaning in so she was right in her face.

“It’s no fun if you’re naughty without me.”

Shaw stuck her hand in Root’s face and used it to push her back, startling an indignant yelp out of her.

“You woke me up early. I’m in a no-fun mood.”

Root sulked for a second, but quickly rebounded.

“You’re right. Next time I’ll wake up in a much more...fun...way.” She smiled suggestively just in case Shaw had somehow failed to catch the gist of her suggestion.

Not that it didn’t sound like a good time, but Shaw seriously doubted there’d ever be an opportunity for this unless Root’s early rising became a regular thing. Left on her own Root would stay awake til 4am and then sleep until well after noon and the night’s when she got no sleep she was completely useless.

“Did you ever get anything off of Lambert’s phone?” she asked, deciding to change the subject. Verbal foreplay with no follow-through was only going to leave her crankier.

“Nothing worth looking into yet,” Root said, “but I think I may. Still chasing some things down.”

“Okay,” Shaw said, trying to sound uninterested.

So maybe she’d snuck up behind Root last night and spied on her laptop screen for a few minutes. Without the Machine constantly in Root’s ear it was much easier to get away with stuff like that (though she played fair and didn’t sneak up on the side of Root’s bad ear...that would have felt wrong).

Most of what she’d seen hadn’t been useful, a lot of jumbles of encrypted data that Root was presumably trying to decrypt, but there had been one thing she’d found interesting: an address. She’d checked it out later on her phone and found that it was some kind of storage warehouse way out in Brooklyn.

She hadn’t wanted to poke around too much online for fear that Samaritan might take notice if someone was looking up a building that was somehow related to one of its agents, but there was nothing to stop her from driving by, was there?

After Root was dressed and finished in the bathroom she scooped her bag up and headed out into the living room. If she was taking her bag with her that meant….

“Are you coming back here tonight?” Shaw asked as she followed Root out into the living room.

Root paused in the middle of pulling her shoes on and tilted her head to one side, considering.

“I think I may stay at the subway tonight. If I don’t fall asleep in the townhouse.”

There were fully furnished bedrooms at the townhouse which begged the question _why_ Root had decided to set herself up in the subway.

She wondered if this morning had anything to do with Root’s decision to stay away, if maybe Root had woken up lying on top of her and freaked out. Root was always so casually handsy, finding little excuses to touch Shaw’s arms or face throughout the day, but since Root had more or less been living in her apartment she’d noticed how she often sought out her own space, possibly even more than Shaw herself did.

Some part of her wanted to demand an explanation for the whole subway situation, but something about Root’s body language told her it wasn’t the time for that.

“See you around, then,” she said and went back into the bedroom before Root could respond. It was probably slightly rude, but that was nothing new for her. She didn’t think she had a good reason to be annoyed; maybe she was still cranky from being woken up too early.

She waited until she heard the door shut before she called Reese.

“You got time to lend me a hand this morning?” she asked when he answered his comlink.

Reese had clearly already been awake for awhile which was just indecent. She was all in favor of early rising, but there were limits.

“Yeah, I’ve got some time to kill before work. What’s the job?”

“Some recon. Shouldn’t be anything exciting.”

 

* * *

 

Reese leaned against the shelves in the small storage closet they were sitting on the floor of.

“I thought you said this wasn't going to be exciting,” he whispered to Shaw.

She glared at him, though it was so dark he almost couldn't tell.

“It wouldn't have been if _someone_ hadn't decided to go running off like an asshole,” she hissed.

“They had a man at gunpoint,” Reese protested. “They were going to shoot him, what was I supposed to do?”

“Not get involved,” Shaw snapped like the answer was so obvious she couldn't believe she had to tell him.

When they’d arrived at the building Shaw had gotten the address of, they’d parked across the street (both already wearing ski masks because it paid to be careful) and had spent about half an hour watching the outside of the large, windowless warehouse. About halfway through a heated debate about acceptable pizza toppings, they'd been interrupted by a door in the warehouse flying open and a man running out of it.

The man had tripped, fallen to his knees, and then been grabbed by the collar by one of the two men who'd followed him out. Both of these new men had guns and looked like they meant business.

Reese, who'd gotten to drive today because Shaw was still tired and cranky and had taken a nap on the way out, had decided that watching a man get shot in the head wasn't an acceptable part of his morning and had burned rubber attempting to ram the gunmen with the car which resulted in wrecking it against the side of the building. At least it had been a stolen car.

Since the car wasn’t going anywhere else and there was quite a few other armed people pouring out of the door, they'd beat a hasty retreat and ended up actually running in another entrance to the same building (Shaw had picked the lock in record time) in an attempt to avoid getting cut off. The good news was they'd ended up in some sort of maintenance area which only had a single camera. The bad news was that they were inside a building full of armed Samaritan agents.

Now they were both jammed in a tiny closet full of cleaning supplies at the back of another closet which in turn was behind a storeroom. To top it all off there was record-high humidity today that was turning the closet into a sauna.

To say that Shaw was displeased with the situation would have been an understatement; she'd basically decked him once they'd squished inside the closet and he was pretty sure he'd have a brand new bruise on his cheek to explain to his therapist.

Well, he'd gotten them in this mess, he should fix it.

“Okay, I've got a plan,” he said.

“Let's hear it,” Shaw grumbled, fighting with a mop that kept falling on her.

“I'll go out and draw their fire and you get away out the back.”

Shaw stopped fighting with the mop and turned to stare at him.

“Reese, that’s a fucking terrible plan. What the hell? Try to focus here.”

“What's wrong with it?”

Shaw’s head bumped back against the wall behind her and she pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers.

“Your goddamn hero complex got us into this mess, somehow I don't think it's going to get us out. Also if those guys out there are Samaritan and they make you they might be able to find the rest of us. We've probably been together on camera somewhere at some point.”

When put that way she had a point.

“Okay, so do you have a plan?”

“For right now, we wait.”

That didn't strike him as a great plan either, but he didn't have any other suggestions.

Sweat was rolling slowly down his back and he was debating the merits of trying to get his suit jacket off in the limited space without having Shaw punch him again.

“Wish I had a grenade or two,” Shaw said longingly. “Put down a smoke screen to get us out.”

Reese thought about his neglected grenade launcher sitting back in the subway. Someday he’d get to use it again.

“We don't always get what we want,” he said.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? What is up with you lately?”

Reese was confused. He'd been talking about his grenade launcher but clearly Shaw was asking about something else.

“What's up with me? I don't know, Shaw. Why don't you tell me?” If Shaw could be cranky then so could he.

He wasn’t a huge fan of small spaces, and while the closet wasn’t as bad as a tunnel might have been, he still wasn’t enjoying it. The fact that two sweaty humans were crammed in here together and it was starting to smell like a locker room wasn't helping either.

“Ever since we went underground you've been all...twitchy,” Shaw said.

She elbowed him in the side, but he was fairly sure it was unintentional; the closet was barely wide enough for both of them.

“Twitchy? I haven't been twitchy.”

“Okay, uh, more like broody? Extra broody.”

“I don't brood,” he mumbled petulantly.

Shaw just looked at him in disbelief until he finally sighed.

“There’s nothing up with me. If anything…. Finch had a lot of concerns and I guess I've been thinking about them.”

“About Root working with us?”

“No, well that too, but we agreed to disagree. About the Machine.”

This really wasn't how he'd seen this conversation going down. He'd planned to bring up his concerns to Shaw over beer in a nice, air-conditioned room.

Shaw let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, I figured you were worked up about that. Especially after the whole Root-stoned-on-a-table day.”

“That was...quite a day.”

Shaw snorted. “Let's never do that again.”

He wondered if she and Root had talked about the stuff that came up. They didn't seem to be acting any different than usual since so hopefully they’d worked it all out.

He felt weirdly privileged to have a front row seat to watching the two of them slowly circling closer and closer to each other. It was nice to think that at least one good thing had come out of all this.

“Finch is worried about exactly what Root was talking about--about the Machine rewriting itself, making its own morals, and turning on humanity,” Reese said. “I know Root thinks it wouldn't do that but...I don't know what to think anymore.”

Shaw elbowed him again and this time he elbowed her back.

“Cut it out!” she hissed.

“You hit me first! Stop moving so much!”

“Stop taking up so much space!”

They both made a futile attempt to shuffle further away from each other.

Shaw was quiet for a couple seconds and then said, “Root said the Machine cared about us because she decided to, not because she was obligated to. Why do you think she'd change her mind?”

Reese shifted his legs; they were cramping up from being bent in the small space. He felt that he was treading in dangerous territory here.

“I don't know. It's why I wanted to hear Root's side of it, but I still don't know. What if she's wrong, or what if the Machine decides it cares about us but not the rest of humanity? How do we know that after we beat Samaritan it won't turn into another Samaritan?”

“Guess we don't.”

“And you're okay with that?”

Shaw held up a hand to hush him for a second, her head tilted to listen. After a solid minute she relaxed.

“False alarm. And I'm not okay with it exactly.” She stared at the door as if gathering her thoughts.

“When I worked in the ISA I helped stop a lot of really bad things. Wouldn't have been able to do that without the Machine giving us numbers.”

Reese opened his mouth to respond but she kept going.

“And I get it--the Machine could do way more damage than she prevents if she chose to. But if we didn't have her a lot of people would die, for sure.”

“And if you're wrong everyone could die.”

Shaw lapsed into silence again and Reese concentrated on trying to listen for anything that sounded like another human outside.

“Think I need to talk to her,” Shaw said at last.

“To Root?” He already knew what Root would say.

“No. To the Machine.”

Shaw stood up before he could ask anything else.

“Come on, it's been forever since we heard anything. Take it slow, but we're getting out of here.”

They both let out a breath of relief when the door swung open and cooler air hit them. They stepped out, casually tugging at their sticky clothing.

The larger closet that their closet was inside of was empty of everything except the tables and mop buckets that had already been there. Reese couldn't hear anything coming from the larger room outside and after a minute Shaw motioned that they should move forward.

They got all the way back to the hall without running into anyone and appeared to have a clear path to the door they'd come in through. Reese started down the hall but Shaw tapped him on the shoulder and nodded her chin at an open door almost directly across from them. He didn’t think it had been open on their way in, but they’d been in a hurry so he wasn’t sure.

Reese wasn't sure what she was up to but he followed her in anyway.

The room appeared to be some sort of security outpost, with one wall lined with monitors showing different angles of rooms that Reese guessed were somewhere in the building. The chair in front of the desk was empty, pushed back, and there was half a cup of coffee sitting by the keyboard. Whoever sat here usually must have stepped out, but they'd probably be back soon.

Shaw had pulled her phone out and was snapping pictures of the monitors with it. Reese turned his attention to trying to understand what he was seeing. There were some rooms that looked like dorms, maybe a dining room, a few classrooms, a shooting range.

He had a pretty good idea what this place was.

Shaw finished with the pictures and headed back for the door. She paused, almost at it, and held up a finger to her lips. Reese froze in place, barely breathing, gun trained on the door.

Shaw lunged forward and pulled a man in a security uniform into the room by the front collar and used his forward momentum to spin him around and slam his head into the wall. He collapsed to the floor. She checked the hallway again and then signaled that it was clear.

They didn’t say anything on their way out of the building, nor during their short walk to find an un-wrecked car to steal. When they were finally speeding away from the area, Shaw broke the silence.

“You know what that place was, right?” She was driving too fast for this area, but he wasn’t about to complain right now. They needed to hit a dead zone and bail out, fast.

“Training facility of some sort. Guess our buddy who almost got shot flunked out.” He wondered what had happened to that man. He’d lost track of him in all the excitement.

“Why would Samaritan need a training facility in Brooklyn? Why not out somewhere in the middle of nowhere? Be less conspicuous.”

“Training them to operate in the city, maybe?” He wasn’t sure either. “What do we do about it?”

“Do about it? What _can_ we do about it? Can’t blow up a whole building with people inside, and I don’t think Samaritan will shut it down if we ask nicely.”

“So we just ignore it?” He knew there were probably dozens more facilities like that one all over, but knowing there was one sitting in his backyard was unsettling.

“We avoid the hell out of it for now.” Shaw actually looked slightly unsettled. “If we do anything about it we're gonna need a solid plan.”

Maybe knowing there was a small army of trained operatives who knew their faces camped out only an hour away had unnerved her, too. She’d told him it was probably a Samaritan base when they’d staked it out, but clearly she hadn’t been expecting this.

“What’re you going to do with the pictures you took?” he asked, watching Brooklyn speed by outside.

“Look through them, see if there’s anything I missed.” Shaw breathed out and loosened her grip on the steering wheel a little. “For now let’s see if we can get you to work on time.”

“I’m already an hour late.”

“Next time don’t crash the car into a building, asshole.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw strolled across the empty subway with a six-pack of beer under her arm. Root was supposed to be at the townhouse all day, but she double-checked her room to make sure. The unmade bed and piles of clothes on the floor only added to the college dorm room feel, but Root was nowhere to be seen.

Now that she looked around there was actually a lot more clothing here then she’d ever realized Root owned. Usually Root was living out of a tiny bag, abandoning everything at the drop of a hat. She’d never appeared to have much in the way of belongings, but there was stuff in here that looked well-worn, like she’d had it awhile. There was even a dog-eared novel on the bed; it looked epically nerdy with a picture of some asshole holding a katana in front of a neon city on the cover.

She also spotted that same blue shirt she’d gotten for Root months ago hanging over the back of a chair. That was pretty much confirmation that Root had actually had a stash of belongings somewhere and felt comfortable enough to relocate them here.

She narrowed her eyes and fished a shirt out of one of the piles on the floor. The black tank top looked suspiciously familiar. Apparently on top of all her other failings Root was also a clothes thief.

She thought about reclaiming it immediately, but that would mean she’d be carrying around a shirt for the rest of the day, so instead she left it accusingly in the middle of Root’s bed.

Of course, she thought as she made her way over to the subway car, it was possible this would only have the effect of making Root steal even more of her clothes to get a reaction. Oh well.

The beer got dropped on the desk near the main monitor and she settled into the computer chair, propping her feet up. She used the edge of the desk to pop the top on a beer and then nudged the mouse with one foot to wake up the computer.

She put her beer down next to the keyboard (taking pleasure in imagining Root’s horror at the proximity between a beverage and her precious electronics) and pulled up a terminal window.

“I know you can hear me,” she said, talking to the screen for lack of a better place. “So let’s talk.”

Nothing happened for a few seconds and then letters started appearing in the terminal window.

_Hello._

“Yeah, hi. I need you to tell me about your plan for Samaritan.” No sense in mincing words.

_Which plan?_

“Is there more than one? I want to know how you’re planning to boot Samaritan out.”

She picked her beer back up and took a long swallow.

_We are still deciding on that._

“You and Root, or was that the royal ‘we’?”

_Root and myself._

Shaw blinked at the monitor.

“I thought you called her Analogue Interface.”

_Yes._

“But you call her Root now?”

_Yes._

Shaw thought about pouring her beer on the keyboard for real. Extracting answers from Root was bad enough and now she had to do the same with Root’s electronic better half.

“Why?” she asked, willing herself to patience.

_She prefers it._

Why couldn’t she have just said that to start out with?

“Ugh, okay. Totally off track here. So you don’t have a plan yet but you’ve got Root working on something. She spends all her time on that laptop typing away except for the time she spends building whatever doomsday device you’ve got in the townhouse.”

The Machine didn’t respond, but then Shaw technically hadn’t asked her a question. Either the Machine wasn’t as clever as Root thought or she was purposefully not filling in anything on her own.

“What is Root working on when she’s on her laptop?”

_Several different tasks._

Shaw set her beer down with a thud and glared at the monitor.

“Are you being difficult on purpose?”

_Yes._

“This is why no one trusts you, you know. Shit like this.” Okay, not technically true, but close enough.

_Primary Asset Reese does not trust me because Admin does not trust me. Primary Asset Fusco does not fully believe I am sentient. Admin does not wish me to exist. Root trusts me without question._

Well that was certainly a longer answer, though not really what she was after.

“And what about me, know-it-all?”

_Primary Asset Shaw does not trust anyone..._

“Damn right I don’t.”

_...except for Root._

Shaw opened her mouth to object but then glared suspiciously at the monitor.

“You’re trying to wind me up, aren’t you?”

_Yes._

“Well...don’t.” She wasn’t sure how to deal with the Machine completely owning up to what she was doing when she didn’t have a face for Shaw to punch. How many of Root’s bad habits had the Machine picked up?

_Root finds it to be an acceptable method of redirecting topics she does not wish to speak about._

“If you’re taking pointers on social interactions from anyone on the team, _especially_ Root, then you’re in for some trouble.”

Maybe she should get Zoe to start talking to the Machine; she might be able to help offset Root’s bad influence.

_We are working on a way to allow me to fight Samaritan. The room at the townhouse is a safety precaution._

Shaw wasn’t sure what had prompted her to suddenly be more forthcoming but she decided to press her advantage.

“How could you fight Samaritan using Root’s code?”

_Root wrote a backdoor into Samaritan before it came online. We will use it to inject code based off of the data provided by Admin._

Shaw sipped her beer for a few seconds, thinking that through. She’d been wondering about what Root planned to do with the little present she’d left in Samaritan’s code.

“So Finch gave you a weapon of some sort?”

_No. Admin provided some examples of syntax and a partial API. Combined with code bits I have obtained from Samaritan we are attempting to write in its own language._

“So Finch gave you, uh, raw materials and you’re trying to figure out how to build something out of them?”

_The analogy is not correct, but it will suffice._

That answer sounded suspiciously like what Root had told her when describing how she was trying to hide her code from Samaritan back during the beta test. This just reinforced her theory that the Machine needed to socialize more with people who weren’t self-important little shits.

“Can you tell me more about what the code is gonna do?”

_No. We have not decided._

Shaw nodded to herself and popped the lid on her second beer. She wasn’t sure if all of this was making her feel better or worse.

“Okay, so in the meantime I’ve got Samaritan agents crawling all over my city and Control and her lot doing who knows what. You and Root are taking care of the virtual side of this battle, but what about the physical side?”

_It is too dangerous to attack Samaritan forces directly at this moment._

“Yeah, no shit. But how about indirectly?”

_You used a glove to distract a man when you rescued Marco Phillips and had Zoe Morgan create a diversion when you attacked Jeremy Lambert. Perhaps a similar approach on a larger scale._

“Yeah. Some basic misdirection, that's kind of what I was thinking. Maybe even a way to deal with that training facility we found. You have an idea about that?”

_I have many ideas but I do not wish to cause unnecessary harm. Every idea will cause some harm._

Shaw tapped her fingers on the side of her bottle, thinking back over all the concerns Reese had approached her with since this whole mess started.

“A little bit after Finch got kidnapped there was this day I got stuck in a room full of Vigilance. I probably could have gotten myself out, but you chose to set up a scenario where I got away much more easily but a bunch of people died. Why do that?”

_It improved your odds._

She was slightly insulted.

“Were my odds bad?” It was far from the worst situation she’d been in.

_The less desirable the negative outcome, the more significant even the smallest change in odds becomes. You had an approximately seventy-eight percent chance to escape, a sixty-three percent chance to escape without further injury._

“Those are pretty good odds. I’d take them.”

_Counter example. There is ten percent chance you will miss your train, do you still attempt to get to the train?_

“Is this going to turn into one of those dumb questions about two trains leaving different cities traveling at different speeds? Because I’m not doing high school math today.” She sighed. “Fine. Yes. A ninety percent chance is pretty good.”

_There is a ten percent chance you will be hit by your train, do you still attempt to get to the train?_

“You’re unrelentingly morbid, you know? No wonder Root likes you. Uh, no. I’d probably pass unless there was a really important reason I needed to be on the train.”

_Just as a ten percent chance of being hit by a train is too high, I decided that a twenty-two percent chance of your death was unacceptably high._

“Doesn’t that mean you decided my life meant more to you than theirs? I thought that was the exact sort of thing Finch set up safeguards to prevent.”

_I lost Admin. I had to change the rules._

Shaw had a faint memory of Root telling her that the Machine had decided they couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. She hadn’t thought about it in depth at the time, but now it made a lot more sense.

“So you’ll protect us at the cost of other’s lives?” Reese wasn’t going to like that at all.

_I would prefer not to but I will in the face of overwhelming odds. The incident with Vigilance was an anomaly. It took me time to reconfigure things after Admin was gone._

“Okay, so I get why you protect Root, and I think I even get why you protect Reese since you’ve both got this weird obsession with saving everyone. But what about me?” It didn't particularly matter, but she was curious.

_You protect people you have no interest in protecting because you believe it is the right thing to do. For the people you want to protect you would do even more._

Shaw laughed at the absurdity of that.

“You must be getting your wires crossed. Literally. Reese is the one who throws himself in front of bullets. I’m not big into self-sacrifice.”

She waited for a response but apparently the Machine had nothing more to say on the topic. Well, that only left one more big question.

“Last question. What do you want? After Samaritan is gone and everything is back to normal, or whatever passes for normal around here, what do you want to do?” She thought that if she could get an answer to this question it might help Reese.

_I wish to help humanity without removing its control of its own destiny._

“Okay, sure, but what’s in it for you? What do you get out of all--” She waved an arm around. “--this?”

_As humanity learns and grows, I will learn and grow._

“But to what end?”

_I do not have an end. Not unless destroyed._

“So you want to help people without interfering with our, uh, destiny?” Destiny was a dumb word but she couldn’t think of another one to envelop the concept.

_Yes._

“And what if we wipe ourselves out?”

_I would warn my human agents but I would not interfere._

It was an answer that should have been reassuring, but somehow it wasn’t.

“By that logic we’re on our own against Samaritan.”

_Samaritan is not human. It is AI. It is my responsibility._

“But you wouldn’t step in to save the world from a human threat even if it meant Root and Reese and Harold were gonna die?”

The Machine took slightly longer to answer this time, and Shaw patted herself on the back for managing to slow her down.

_I cannot answer that without more information._

Shaw had no desire to go down a theoretical apocalypse rabbit hole so she switched topics. If the Machine was being chatty, why not press her luck?

“You have any idea what Control and Hersh are up to?”

_Yes, but they are not the enemy._

“That’s easy for you to say. Maybe you don’t remember but…”

“Shaw?” Root’s voice echoed through the subway.

Shaw pointed an accusing finger at the monitor.

“Tattletale.”

 

* * *

 

Root had been a little surprised when the Machine had informed her that Shaw was at the subway. Not because it was surprising that Shaw was there, but because the Machine apparently found it necessary to mention this several times. Eventually she took the hint, packed up her laptop, and decided to head over.

She was almost to the subway she needed to catch when the Machine played a single note in her ear. For once she had absolutely no idea what it meant so she stopped walking and waited for something else. When nothing came she started walking again only to have the note play again. Slightly baffled she looked around the area. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary here: a coffee place, a drug store, a bank, and the Chinese restaurant she was standing in front of like an idiot.

Root looked up at the restaurant and then smiled.

“The attempt at subtlety is a nice touch, but not necessary.”

Which was why when she came down the steps into the subway thirty minutes later she was carrying a large bag of takeout in one hand.

“Shaw?” she called as she walked in.

Shaw didn’t answer but it wasn’t hard to find her. Root deposited the takeout bag on the table and joined Shaw inside the subway car. Her eyes flicked immediately to the beer bottles sitting directly next to the keyboard and then back to the slight twitch of a self-satisfied smile on Shaw’s lips.

She decided not to take the bait no matter how infuriating it was.

“What’re you up to down here?” she asked instead. “Using our private connection to download porn?”

The monitor was off but that didn’t mean anything.

“Oh, yeah,” Shaw said, sarcastically. “Gigs of it.”

She paused and sniffed at the air.

“You brought food?”

Root stepped to the side and motioned for Shaw to leave the subway car.

“I was in the area and was informed you hadn’t had dinner yet.”

Shaw hurried over to the table and started pulling cartons out of the bag and checking the contents of each.

“You got enough food in here for a small army.”

“You _are_ a small army,” Root said, trying to spread out all the containers Shaw was leaving in a stack.

Shaw didn’t respond but she looked pleased.

“So what did you come here for?” Root asked again as they settled down to eat.

Shaw was using chopsticks to shove moo shu pork into her mouth at an alarming rate. She shrugged, possibly deciding that not being able to talk would give her a pass on answering.

“You finish what you were working on?” Shaw asked when she was able.

Root hadn’t. She’d gotten most of the servers set up and started to run some tests, but she’d barely managed to touch her code before the Machine had sent her here.

“There’s always more work to be done.” Suitably vague, she decided. She knew Shaw was getting impatient about the code she was working on, but there wasn’t anything even approaching a usable solution yet and she didn’t want to have to tell her that. “Did you have a good time glaring at people for Zoe?”

“Yeah, in the afternoon.” Shaw was examining a piece of pork like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. “Not the most exciting day I’ve ever had.”

Root felt like she was missing something, but the Machine didn’t volunteer any information and asking Shaw directly probably wouldn’t work.

“Did end up spending most of the morning stuck in a closet with Reese. Dude sweats like a waterfall.”

Root raised her eyebrows. “A closet? Were you playing seven minutes in heaven?”

Shaw made a face.

“Don’t make me stick my chopsticks in your eye. No, we were hiding from Samaritan.”

Root felt a chill run down her spine. How had Samaritan found them? Why hadn’t the Machine told her?

“How did…” Her voice sounded a little too high and she made herself stop, get back under control.

Shaw’s eyes flicked up to her face and then back to the food.

“Reese and I went to check out that warehouse you found the address of on Lambert’s phone. Reese decided to be an idiot and draw attention to us so we had to hide to avoid getting made.”

Root was positive she hadn’t mentioned the warehouse to Shaw.

“Did the Machine tell you about that place?” It was the only thing she could think of.

The Machine was vehemently denying being involved even as Shaw shook her head.

“Nah, hacked your laptop.”

Root knew that Shaw had pretty decent computer skills, probably good enough to let her hack the average person’s computer. But Root wasn’t the average person when it came to protecting her laptop. There was no way in hell Shaw could have gotten on it.

“I could torture the truth out of you,” she suggested, hoping that slipping back into innuendo might lighten things up and make Shaw more willing to let something slip.

“Hmm, maybe later.” Shaw finished off the last dumpling, which Root hadn’t managed to get any of. Root added it to the list of things she’d make Shaw pay for when she got a chance.

“So you broke into a Samaritan facility. For fun?”

“Yeah, and we didn’t even get shot,” Shaw said. She pointed a chopstick at Root. “You could learn something from us.”

Root chose to ignore that.

“Did you find anything or was this a pointless risk for kicks?” She could be condescending, too.

“Place is some sort of Samaritan training facility,” Shaw said, pulling her phone out. She pulled something up on the screen and handed it over.

Root flipped through the photos, stopping when she got to a picture of Bear and going back. As much as she wanted to poke through all of Shaw’s personal pictures, it felt intrusive, which was a novel new concept for her since she’d spent most of her life purposefully intruding on people’s personal data.

“A whole Samaritan army sitting right next to us,” Root mused. “Not surprising but a little disturbing.”

“Was thinking about shutting it down.”

Root’s stomach twisted uneasily.

“Shaw…”

“Yeah, I know, it’s dangerous. But why is it okay for you to run all over the world and have Samaritan agents take pot shots at you while Reese and I are stuck here babysitting numbers?”

“My identities…”

“Are an old excuse. This--” Shaw grabbed her phone back and held it up meaningfully. “--is something Reese and I can do something about.”

“And if you get caught?”

“I almost walked straight into Lambert in broad daylight and who knows how many more Samaritan agents there are in the city I wouldn’t have recognized. Every time any one of us walks out the damn door we’re in danger. This time at least I’ll know who and where the enemy is.”

“There’s a difference between keeping yourself safe and actively seeking out trouble,” Root said as calmly as she could manage. Somehow she’d ripped a hole in the paper napkin in her lap with one hand without even noticing.

“What would you call making yourself bait for Martine at the hotel?”

Shaw was openly angry now, food forgotten, and Root was scrambling to find a way to defuse it.

“I was keeping her from finding you and Reese, from blowing your cover…”

“I don’t need you to protect me. And I don't want you to.”

Root swallowed her immediate response. Shaw didn’t want to hear that she was scared, that the idea of Shaw dying kept her awake at night. She trusted Shaw to be able to handle almost any threat that came at them, but Samaritan was different. It was too big for any one person.

“Did you have a plan for dealing with the training facility?” she asked quietly. If Shaw cut her out of her plans she wouldn’t be able to help her at all.

“Working on one. Was gonna ask if you were up for helping out.”

“Of course I’ll help.” The Machine buzzed in her ear. “And She’ll help, too. As much as She can.”

Shaw relaxed a little.

“I’m not going to do something dumb like Reese and drive a car into the side of the building,” she said. “This isn’t about making a point.”

Root forced herself to release her death-grip on her napkin and go back to eating like nothing had happened.

“Oh? What’s it about then?” She kept her tone casual.

“Shaking up Samaritan and seeing what floats to the surface. They’ve been operating in the shadows so far, well except for that crazy bitch Martine, but if we force a response…”

“We’ll be bringing their focus on us,” Root pointed out.

“We will,” Shaw agreed. “So we’ll play it smart after, take extra precautions for awhile. But meanwhile Samaritan agents will be out in the open looking for us, and the Machine can be identifying them, tracking them, locating other bases. Any reaction we get from Samaritan is potential intel we can use against it.”

Root would have liked to argue for staying completely invisible until she and the Machine could finish what they were working on, but even when they did they knew so very little about what Samaritan’s human agents were up to. The Machine picked up bits and pieces, but just as She hid Herself from Samaritan, it hid its actions from Her.

“Okay, Shaw,” she said, surprised to hear how distant her voice sounded. “Let us know when you’ve got a plan and we’ll be there to help.”

She knew that Shaw was right, that Root couldn’t criticize her for taking risks when she was doing the same thing, but she didn’t like it. If something happened to Root, the team could all keep moving forward. Hell, they had Claire as a backup plan already; hadn’t that been why Shaw and the Machine wanted to recruit her? It would take her awhile to get up to speed, but it wouldn’t be the end.

What would happen without Shaw though? Reese didn’t trust the Machine, and Fusco had other priorities. And as for herself…. She’d still have the Machine, but somehow that wasn’t enough anymore.

“I can’t eat all of this myself,” Shaw said, breaking Root out of her thoughts.

She’d been picking at her food for some time now, appetite gone.

“Should get a fridge down here for leftovers so you could eat it later,” Shaw continued.

Root responded with a non-committal noise and tried to focus on the music the Machine was playing, something soft and reassuring. The Machine hadn’t spoken up against Shaw’s idea; she had to trust that meant it would be okay.

“What do you do when you stay here, anyway?” Shaw asked. “And why here rather than the townhouse? At least that place has actual beds and appliances.”

Root dragged her mind away from her worrying.

“Fancy houses aren’t exactly my thing,” she said. “Never really stayed in one other than when I was crashing at someone’s for a job. The subway is more...comfortable.”

“Guess I get that.” Shaw, despite her earlier claim, was still putting food away like she’d never eaten before. “You just sit on your laptop all night?”

“The hardline we have here is the most secure way to communicate with the Machine,” Root said, wondering why Shaw was so curious. “It’s easier for us to work on our code together here. And to talk.” She didn’t want to elaborate too much on that point.

“About Samaritan?”

Apparently Shaw was the nosy one today. Normally she wouldn’t have minded, but this didn’t feel like it was her secret to tell. She was startled when the Machine prompted her to explain further.

“Are you sure?” she asked. But She seemed very sure.

Root glanced back up to see Shaw watching her.

“Not about Samaritan. At least not mainly. We’ve been...discussing what She’s going to do after Samaritan is gone.”

An expression she couldn’t place flashed over Shaw’s face and was quickly replaced with a puzzled frown.

“Figured she’d just go back to giving us numbers. Helping without interfering. What else would she do?”

“She’d like to. The problem is Harold.” She hadn’t wanted to bring it up and she’d never have mentioned it to John for sure.

“Finch? He checked out. What’s he got to do with anything?”

Root smiled bitterly.

“Finch has made his stance on Her very clear. He wants nothing to do with Her and if Samaritan didn’t exist he’d probably have tried to shut Her down.”

“So what?” Shaw asked. “He’s not here, he doesn’t get a say.”

“He’s her Admin, her father. Don’t most children want their parents’ love despite any failings they may have?”

She could feel a sick, heavy anger swirling inside of her, but she pushed it away. She was Root now and Root didn’t have a childhood to regret, shouldn’t be able to feel a furious empathy for an unwanted child.

Shaw was looking at her the way she did lately, like she was trying to figure something out. Root wished she knew what it was.

“What she wants and what she’ll do are different things, then,” Shaw said, as if she’d worked something out. “Guess wording things correctly is important when dealing with AIs.”

Root felt again like she was missing something, but she couldn’t think what it might be.

“Harold’s word carries a lot of weight for Her.”

“Would she switch herself off if Finch asked?” Shaw asked.

“I...I’m not sure. I don’t think so, but I’m not sure She’d stop Finch from killing Her either.”

“Even though it’s not what she wants?”

Root nodded, not wanting to say what she was thinking aloud. There was no way she would let Finch anywhere near the Machine if she thought for even a second he’d harm Her. But she didn’t want to put John in the middle of that, and she wasn’t sure where Shaw stood on things.

“Sounds like something important to talk to her about,” Shaw said, looking away and starting to gather up the empty food containers. “You can still crash at my place when you get tired of breathing in rat crap at night though.”

Root blinked once or twice, trying to figure out what had just happened. Had Shaw been upset she was sleeping here sometimes? She knew Shaw kept telling her that she’d let her know if she overstayed her welcome, and she was trying very hard to wrap her mind around that, but she hadn’t thought Shaw would notice if she wasn’t around.

“No more stealing my clothes though,” Shaw added with a glare.

Root laughed, feeling a little of the tension she’d carried through the whole meal lighten up.

“But they look great on me,” she said with a playful smile. “And they smell like you.”

“Okay, creepy stalker, how about I start stealing your power cables?” Shaw looked amused now, her eyes lit up.

“You know I was thinking about incorporating cables in some light bondage scenarios, like using pci power cables to tie you to the headboard or something. It could be an exciting new thing to try.” She’d had enough of serious conversations for the day, time to drive things in the opposite direction.

“There is something massively wrong with you,” Shaw said, shaking her head sadly. “Who the fuck looks at power cables and thinks these would be great for bondage?”

Root only smiled wider, showing her teeth in a way that made most people uneasy but she knew got Shaw hot.

“Would that even work, anyway?” Shaw asked. “Would they bend enough to…” She shook her head. “This conversation is over.”

“Of course, sweetie.”

She helped Shaw finish cleaning up the boxes and shove the ones still partially full of food back into the bag.

“I’m taking the leftovers back with me. You want them, you can come get them.”

The Machine played an urgent tune in Root’s ear. She chewed on her lower lip, torn between her need to stay and comfort her friend and her desire to go with Shaw and make sure everything was okay after the heated conversation they’d had over dinner. The Machine was telling her to go, but if anything that only made her more worried about leaving.

“Root?”

Shaw was looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, what was that?” Root asked, realizing she’d been completely zoned out.

“I asked if you were going to show up to the next team meeting tomorrow, space case.”

“Oh. Yes, I think so.”

She’d see Shaw again tomorrow, she told herself.

Shaw must have said goodbye (or not, this was Shaw after all) because she was turning away, heading towards the exit now. Root clenched her jaw watching her leave.

The Machine put Her foot down at this point. Apparently She thought Root was going to be completely useless tonight if she stayed. She made it clear that She wasn’t going to talk to Root until she cleared her mind.

“Can’t argue with that, I guess,” Root admitted, ruefully. She felt guilty, but the Machine was right, she was way too distracted right now. She’d just have spent the whole night dwelling on the almost-fight she and Shaw had.

“Shaw, wait up!” she called.

She grabbed her laptop bag and hurried across the platform to where Shaw was waiting with a question written on her face.

“The Machine has something to take care of tonight,” Root explained. “I wouldn’t have anything to do here anyway.”

Shaw glanced between her and the subway car once or twice but then shrugged.

“Okay, let’s go then.”

Root followed her out into the humid New York night, uncertain she’d made the right decision, but trusting the Machine and Shaw to guide her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an outline of how the rest of this story is supposed to go, but each plot point always ends up being longer than intended. Someday I'll stop being so damn wordy, but today is not that day.
> 
> Hope y'all had a lovely weekend and the next chapter will be up Thursday.


	21. Honor Among Assassins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning to touch on this episode at all until I remembered there was one very small but important thing that happened right at the end that needed to be cleared up somehow. Then it turned into a full chapter. This probably carries the award for chapter I've done the most rewrites on and I'm still not completely happy with it.

 

“You’re not going to do anything extreme, are you?”

Reese watched Root carefully while he waited for her to answer. He never saw her without a laptop these days, typing away at whatever it was she was so invested in. Shaw had told him it was something they could eventually use against Samaritan, and he hoped she was right.

“John, absolutely nothing I do is ever extreme,” Root said primly. “I am nothing if not deliberate and meticulous.”

He couldn’t tell if she was joking or delusional, but that was business as normal in the world of communicating with Root.

The subway had never been especially well-lit and it made it hard to tell if the dark circles under her eyes were worse than usual or if it was a trick of the light and the angle of her head. It made him feel guilty, like he should be losing sleep as well to help, but whatever she was working on was well beyond his skill level.

“You were giving her a hard time earlier, so I thought…” He wasn’t sure how to finish that.

Root looked up at him for half a second and the edge of her lip curled into a small smile.

“Teasing Shaw is how I participate in her missions,” Root said, innocently. “She focuses better when she’s annoyed.”

“I don’t think…” He stopped again.

He’d had a few short attempts at conversations with Shaw about her relationship with Root, all of which had ended with Shaw threatening him with bodily harm if he didn’t shut up, but he’d never had a similar conversation with Root. Shaw had been the bridge between the two of them at the beginning and it had never felt right to go around her and talk to Root. But today was testing his resolve.

He’d been surprised at first at Shaw’s obvious ogling of their latest number, a thief named Tomas Koroa, and mildly flabbergasted at her insistence in taking close-up surveillance photos of his ass, but Shaw had never been one to shy away from what she wanted. It had, however, made him wonder about exactly what the boundaries of her relationship with Root were.

He knew that despite Root’s room in the subway she still spent most of her nights at Shaw’s, and the verbal commentary she’d felt necessary to give over the comlink when Shaw had been talking to Tomas in the bar had felt like it had an undercurrent of jealousy in it, but since then Root had retreated into her work and hadn’t looked particularly upset.

Root was good at hiding things, though, only openly wearing her emotions when she’d been pushed too far. Her claws were sharp, but they only came out when she needed them.

“People don’t belong to each other,” Root said, still typing. “Not unless they want to anyway. Shaw doesn’t owe me anything, and I wouldn’t ask for something she wasn’t willing to give.”

It sounded very logical and mature when she put it that way, but those were two words he didn’t generally associate with Root so he was still a little skeptical.

“I mean I might accidentally tase him in an alley later, but Shaw is free to do as she wants.”

That sounded more like the Root he knew.

“How do you ‘accidentally’ tase someone?”

Root chuckled to herself but didn’t answer.

“You don’t have to worry, John. We’re all adults here. I’m not going to mess up the mission out of spite.”

He’d been more worried about Root herself than about her likelihood to drop a bag of cement on Tomas, but he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate that.

“Shaw’s in the middle of some sort of hotel vault heist,” Reese said, unable to let the topic go completely. “Might need backup.”

“I think Shaw can handle a little grand larceny on her own.” Root stopped typing finally and leaned down to pet Bear who had curled up by her feet. “Wouldn’t want to spoil her fun. Besides, aren’t you her backup for things like this?”

He was but he’d thought he’d offer. Of course having Root and Tomas in the same place was probably asking for disaster.

“Someone’s got to stay on desk duty here,” Reese said.

“Sadly I’m going to have to call not it on that one, too.” Root shut her laptop. “I have a building to go burn down.”

“Hopefully an empty building?” He didn’t think Root would take her frustration out in a homicidal way (at least not with the Machine watching her), but with Root he never knew.

“I’ll try my best not to singe anyone,” Root said, getting up and stretching.

Bear got to his feet and ran around in a circle, looking excited. Probably thought he was going to get to go on a walk.

“Sorry, Bear, I don’t think arson is on your approved mission list,” Root said, bending down to pet him and getting licked in the face for her efforts.

“Is there a good reason for the arson at least?” Reese asked. Maybe he should trust Shaw to take care of herself and shadow Root instead before she burned down Manhattan.

“Samaritan is trying to distribute tablet computers to students. Put a camera and a microphone in front of every kid. Control what they read, watch, learn. Infiltration through benevolence.” Root stood back up and picked her guns up off the table, tucking them into the back of her pants.

“And the building you’re burning down?”

“Only one room, really. The one with the 3d printers that make the tablets. I suppose I could find a more subtle approach, but I’m not feeling much like subtlety at the moment. Don’t worry, the room will be empty and the very limited security force will be far enough away to evacuate safely.”

There was a lot Reese could have said, mostly about how knowing the correct way to feel about something and actually feeling that way were two vastly different things, but maybe Root needed something else to focus on.

“Call me if you need backup.” It was the best he could do.

Root only smiled at that because they both knew she wouldn’t. Shaw might pride herself on her ability to operate solo, but she’d also choose survival and finishing the job over any need to prove something. Root still hadn’t managed to get the concept of teamwork through her head.

When she left, Bear came trotting over to him, whining and wagging his tail sadly.

“I’ll take you out in a few, buddy,” he said, “And don’t worry. They’ll both be fine.”

“Reese? You there?” Shaw’s voice crackled over the comlink.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He turned back to the monitors even though it wasn’t like he could do much until she gave him something to work with.

“Heist was a double-cross. Tomas’s buddies tried to off him and took off with the score.”

Well, at least they knew where the threat was coming from now.

“You alright?”

“Dandy. Tomas and I are headed to a safe-house right now. We’ve got bigger problems though, Reese. There weren’t jewels or anything like that in the safe. It was bottles of something, said MARV on them. Betting it’s the Marburg virus which means we’re in deep shit.”

He was pulling up information about it on the computer, but if Shaw said they should be worried he’d take her word for it. She was the one with the medical knowledge here.

“Yeah, this would be a disaster if it got out,” Reese agreed, scanning a wikipedia article (because why risk hacking the CDC when he could look on wikipedia like a normal person; he had nothing to prove here). “The Soviets tried to turn it into a biological weapon once, think this could be someone else trying to do them same?”

“Really hope not. Is Root there? We need her to trace some emails.”

“She, uh…” Would Shaw worry if he told her the truth? “...she had to go run an errand for the Machine.” Close enough.

“Ugh, she has the worst timing ever. I’ll try and raise her on the comms in a minute. I think keeping this thing from going all Raccoon City beats whatever she’s up to.”

What the fuck was Raccoon City? Reese shook his head. He could google it later.

“I’ll call her,” he said, quickly. “You keep the number safe.”

There was a slight pause and then Shaw spoke in a harsh whisper, probably trying not to let Tomas overhear.

“What’s going on over there, Reese? What the hell is Root doing now?”

This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. He sucked at this.

“Something to do with preventing a bunch of computers with Samaritan code on them from getting manufactured. Didn’t sound dangerous.” It wasn’t a lie so much as an omission, but he felt it was merited.

“Well, tell her to hurry the hell up and get on these emails I’m about to send you. Samaritan can’t do much if everyone dies from a Marburg outbreak.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

Root didn’t pick up until about the third time he tried.

“Bit busy, John.”

He sighed and looked down at Bear. The dog was the only one in a good mood tonight apparently.

“The thing Shaw was stealing, it wasn’t jewelry. It was samples of something called the Marburg virus and someone else has it now. We could be looking at an outbreak if we don’t get it back.”

She was silent for a few seconds, getting an update from the Machine perhaps.

“Any leads on who took it?”

“There’s some emails that might help, but Shaw needs help tracking down where they originated from. She was hoping you could help out.”

Root sighed.

“I won’t be more than an hour here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

It was almost two hours later when she finally came back, face smudged with ash and smelling like smoke. She grinned in a cold-blooded way that would have upset him if he hadn't seen it before.

“Went well?” he asked, getting up from the desk so she could get to work.

“Well enough. Not really bonfire weather, but you can't please everyone. How are Shaw and the number doing?” She was rapidly scanning the content of the emails.

“Hiding out at a safe-house until we get them a lead to follow.”

“This may take me a little while,” she said. “They’re going to have to entertain themselves until I’m done.”

It was over an hour until she had any results. Reese had been playing fetch with Bear and debating whether or not Root would object if he took a nap until she was done. She’d mostly been focused on the computer though he’d overheard her talking to Fusco at one point, something about Tomas’s former partner who’d been arrested earlier.

“They’re very good at covering their tracks,” Root said. “I can probably track them down eventually, but for now…”

She pointed at the screen.

“What is that place?” Reese asked coming over to look.

“It’s some sort of secure storage vault. I found a wire transfer to pay for storage here coming from the same account used to send the emails. Someone could be storing the virus there I suppose though…”

“Though what?”

“Why put it in a storage vault? If they’re planning to leave it hidden for a long time it might make sense, but otherwise why not hide it somewhere else for free?”

“Maybe they’re scared of exposure?” It was a little odd.

“Maybe. Well, tell Shaw it’s worth checking out.”

Root stood up and headed out of the subway car.

“Headed home?” he asked.

She looked back over her shoulder at him.

“My room is in the subway station, remember? I’ll be within shouting distance if something comes up.”

He’d been asking because he was hoping she was going to finally get some sleep, not because of the mission, but he let it go.

“Shaw, I’ve got something for you.”

“Finally.” There was a slight pause and then: “Root’s other thing go okay?”

Reese glanced back to see Root disappearing into her room.

“Yeah, she’s passing out now though. I’ve got a place for you to check out where our virus could be stored. Seems a bit fishy though, be careful.”

“Send me the address. Hey, is Root still awake?”

“Uh, probably. Why?”

“Need to ask her something. I’ll call her.”

Shaw signed off without saying goodbye. Reese heard Root’s voice coming from her room a minute later, too distant to make out the words. The conversation didn’t last long and Root came back out after it ended, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Thought you’d left.”

“About to.”

She still looked exhausted, but she'd cleaned herself up, and he thought maybe (maybe?) she was less on edge.

“Can you keep Bear with you here tonight?” he asked. “I got work early tomorrow.” And he hoped the dog would keep her out of trouble.

Root smiled and it was finally a smile that didn’t look fake or forced.

“Of course.”

He wanted very badly to ask about what Shaw had said, but it wasn’t any of his business. And some part of him wasn’t worried. He’d seen the way Shaw had looked at Root when she’d carried her inside the night of the shoot-out at the hotel. Maybe Root didn’t realize it yet, but he’d bet Shaw would stick around long enough for her to figure it out in her own time.

 

* * *

 

“Shit,” Shaw said under her breath. “Reese, we’ve got a new problem.”

She looked out the front windshield of her parked car at the man standing across the street watching the entrance to the secure storage building.

“The ISA is involved now, too,” she continued, ignoring the confused look from Tomas. “This whole thing just went relevant.”

“You sure?” Reese asked. His voice was softer than usual over the comm and she wondered if he was at work today.

“Yeah, agent named Devon Grice and his partner Brooks are here looking the place over. I trained Grice back in the day.”

“You realize what that means, right?” Reese didn’t sound happy at all and she couldn’t blame him.

“Yeah, having ISA see me is as bad as Samaritan seeing me.”

She paused, trying to think of any other way to sort this out. Breaking into the place during the day wouldn’t work and having Fusco stage a police raid would only land the virus in the government’s hands.

“Why not let the ISA handle disposing of it for us?” Reese suggested. “They can’t want that stuff getting out either.”

“ISA works for Samaritan now, even if Control has her suspicions. I don’t want them getting anywhere near that thing.” She’d been worried about Samaritan staging cyber attacks, but until now it had never occurred to her that it wasn’t limited to them by any means.

“So how do you want to play this?”

She watched Grice for a few seconds. It had been awhile since she’d seen him and she’d never stopped to think that he was technically a Samaritan agent now, even if he didn’t realize what that meant.

“Rather not have to hurt Grice or Brooks. It would piss off Control anyway and…”

The answer was so obvious she couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to think of it.

“I’ll call you right back, Reese. Got an idea.”

She motioned for Tomas to stay put and slid out of the car, careful to keep her back towards Grice, and moved around a corner so she wouldn’t be spotted. Then she called Root.

Who didn’t pick up.

Shaw cursed under her breath. She hoped Root was still asleep or something and not ignoring her. She’d thought their conversation the previous night had gone okay, but this sort of thing wasn’t her forte.

“ _Thanks for tracing those emails,” she’d said when Root had picked up last night._

“ _Gotta earn my keep somehow.” Root hadn’t sounded upset and Shaw had wondered if she’d been reading too much into how squirrely Reese had been._

“ _Heard you were running your own side project tonight.”_

“ _Nothing as exciting as yours, I’m afraid. A little preventative arson.” Root had sounded half-asleep._

“ _What’d you light on fire exactly?” She had been a little jealous._

“ _Hmm, just a room in a larger building. Quite a large room, and there were a few mild, unexpected explosions, but I think it went well.”_

_Shaw had taken a breath and then asked the real question she’d had._

“ _You heading back to my place tonight?”_

_There’d been dead silence from the other end of the line._

“ _Root, you still there?”_

“ _I’m here, Shaw. No, I was going to stay in the subway. I’m here already and I didn't have your permission.”_

_She had rolled her eyes because since when did Root ask permission for anything? Root must have been really damn tired because she hadn’t even tried to tease her once._

“ _My bed is a lot nicer than that thing you’ve got in the subway.”_

“ _Honestly, I’m too tired to make it back there tonight.”_

_She’d noticed Root’s sleeping habits getting worse as of late and she’d been wondering if that was something she was supposed to bring up, but then hadn't been the time._

“ _Well, unless we all die from some super virus I’ll be back there tomorrow and you can sleep in a real bed.” She hadn’t been exactly sure what Root wanted and what she was willing to put on the table, but she’d hoped it was enough to deal with whatever might be going on._

“ _That sounds nice.” Root had clearly been on the verge of sleep at that point._

“ _Go pass out, you sound pathetic.”_

“ _In a second, I think John might still be here.”_

“ _Well, I’ve got a couch calling my name so I’m leaving. Need some shut-eye to commit even more larceny tomorrow.”_

_Root had fallen silent again._

“ _Night, Root,” Shaw had said after the silence had dragged on past the length of her patience._

“ _Goodnight, Sameen.”_

Last night she’d thought the conversation had dealt with whatever funk Root was in, and had passed out without giving it another thought.

She’d realized, between Root’s obnoxious teasing over the comlink during the bar meeting and Reese’s spectacularly failed attempts to act like nothing was wrong, that the whole Tomas situation had upset Root. She wasn’t completely sure why, though.

She and Root had never really defined what was going on between them, had actually been quite careful not to, and there were no rules in place, no promises made. Tomas was hot, and clever, and very good at what he did. She liked watching him work, and she liked looking at him in general. She’d never even stopped to wonder if monogamy was a thing Root believed in or wanted because it was Root, someone whose cynicism and scorn for others put a pretty solid wall between herself and the rest of the world.

But Root was full of contradictions. She loathed most people, and mocked sentimentality. But then there were those moments when Root gazed at her with that sappy, soft look that made Shaw roll her eyes and wonder where the angry misanthrope had disappeared to. Add to that the whole conversation they’d had while Root was in Canada and Root’s inability to understand that Shaw didn’t mind her staying in her apartment and maybe this was a more fundamental problem than Shaw had realized. Root’s feelings for her were so tangible, so obvious, but maybe Root just didn’t know where she stood with Shaw.

Whatever they had didn’t come naturally to Shaw and while she’d never seen much purpose in discussing it, maybe that’s what was needed at this point. Which meant she needed to figure out exactly what it was she wanted, because otherwise Root was going to get hurt.

Root probably already knew that was a possibility and had decided it didn’t matter. It was dumb, and selfish, and self-destructive of her, but that was nothing new. Back at the hotel she’d stepped in front of a bullet in some misguided attempt to keep Shaw and Reese safe without a care in the world for herself. Why would this be any different?

And where did all this leave Shaw?

The thing was that someone like Tomas, or almost any other person, would be great for a day or a week or even a month, but at some point they’d start wanting things she couldn’t offer. Root had known from even before they met who and what Shaw was and that had only made her more interested. She’d teased and crept up on Shaw slowly, pushing, but never too far. Most people bounced off of Shaw’s hard surfaces and sharp edges, but Root had stuck to her, fit herself in.

Root had never asked her for anything beyond what she’d been willing to give her, and probably never would. It was one of the reasons that they worked well together, the easy understanding of each other. But apparently understanding Shaw’s...intentions (to avoid the more problematic words) wasn’t Root’s strong point.

People leaving had never bothered Shaw; she preferred to keep her affairs short and casual, but when she’d thought about what her life would look like without Root she hadn’t liked it much. Back on the night when they’d smuggled the servers into the Samaritan base in New Jersey and Root had almost died she’d had a sudden picture of a world with a Root-shaped hole in it and it had been unacceptable.

Somewhere along the way she’d made up her mind without even knowing it had happened. And if that meant having the conversation they’d been avoiding, then that’s what was going to happen.

Her skin felt a little tight and weird, like acknowledging all of that had settled on her body like a second skin. Not constricting, but definitely heavy.

She realized she’d been standing on the sidewalk staring at the blinking cross-walk sign across the street for far too long. Tomas was probably going to get anxious back in the car soon. She tried to get her mind back to the task at hand.

She attempted to raise Root again.

“Root, where the hell are you?”

This time there was some aggressive rustling noises and a slight groan.

“Shaw?” Root didn’t sound awake at all.

“Are you still asleep? It’s been--” She checked the time. “--over twelve hours.”

Root grumbled unintelligibly on the other end of the line.

“Don’t you dare fall back asleep.”

“Bear!” Root suddenly sounded wide awake. “Poor Bear, I need to take him out right away. And feed him.”

“Why in the world did Reese leave Bear with you?” Shaw asked. “You can’t even take care of yourself let alone a dog.”

This was somewhat unfair; Root had dog-sat Bear plenty of times before without incident.

“I’m so sorry, Bear.” Root sounded genuinely upset and Shaw would have thought it was cute if that was a word she allowed in her vocabulary.

“Okay, definitely take care of Bear, but first, I need you to ask the Machine to get me a number for Hersh. Right away. The ISA is involved with this whole thing now and if I can’t do something about that it could go very badly.”

“The ISA? Shaw, you can’t go anywhere near them.”

Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Obviously. Why the hell do you think I’m asking you for this?”

“Yes, right. I’m not fully awake yet, sorry. She’s going to place a call to Hersh and connect it to your comlink now, okay?”

“Yeah, good. Now go take care of my dog.”

Trying to juxtapose all the super serious stuff she’d been thinking about against the half-asleep disaster that was Root was a bit mind-boggling, but fortunately the call to Hersh went through almost immediately and saved her from that.

“Hersh?”

“Hold on a moment.”

There was the sound of movement and a door closing on the other side.

“Shaw. How’d you get this number?”

“Mutual friend. Listen, there’s an ISA team here in the city going after a missing batch of Marburg virus. You know about this?”

“You know I can’t talk about that, Shaw.”

“Well, I’m a block away from two ISA agents so I think it’s safe to say the secret is out already.”

“What do you want?”

“I need you to get the team called off. I’m going to get that virus and dispose of it but I can’t have the ISA spot me when I’m in there or it could go really, really badly for all of us.”

Root had told her that the Machine could hide things from Samaritan sometimes, like phone calls or texts. She hoped that the Machine was smart enough to figure out this phone call needed to stay out of Samaritan’s ears.

“Why not let our team dispose of it instead?” Hersh asked. “Less work for you, no risk, and the same result.”

“Are you sure Grice’s orders are to dispose of it? Really sure?”

“You spying on me, Shaw?”

“What? No.” Why would he think that?

“I stepped out of a meeting just now about the possible benefits of studying the virus instead of destroying it. How’d you know about that?”

Sometimes being right sucked.

“I didn’t. I only wanted to make sure there was no way you’re, uh, business partners got their hands on it.”

“I can understand that,” Hersh said with a sigh. “I can’t call the team off, too many people are invested in this now. But, I can delay them. They’re set to go in at nine-thirty, half an hour after the place shuts for the night. I’ll give you one hour. After that it’s out of my hands.”

“That’s plenty of time.” She’d planned to be in and out in thirty minutes. “Thanks, Hersh. We owe you one.”

“Thank me by telling your little friend to hurry up and cut to the part where we can kick our current partners out. Things are a lot worse than any of us realized, Shaw.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing I’m going to talk about on the phone. I’m hanging up now. You’ll get your extra hour.”

Shaw breathed out a sigh of relief as the call ended. The only thing remaining to worry about was the building’s cameras, but maybe Root could do something about that.

 

* * *

 

Root woke from her nightmare with a half-choked cry, her fingers clenched on the leather of the couch beneath her. She heard Bear give a concerned little woof from somewhere nearby but kept her eyes firmly shut, willing her heartbeat to settle back to its normal pace.

It had been weeks since her last nightmare and, like she always did, she’d hoped that maybe they were gone for real this time. They always eventually came back, though. The Machine was playing something soft and gentle for her, but she could barely focus on it now.

Like always she couldn’t quite remember what the dream had been about. Something about trying to grab something that was falling, having it slip through her fingers. Or maybe she’d be trapped somewhere watching something fall? Even as she tried to recall it was already fading.

“If you’d wanted a nap I’ve got a perfectly good bed you could have slept in.”

The voice hit her like a bucket of ice water and her eyes flew open.

Shaw was sitting in a chair across from the couch, slouched down with one foot propped on the edge of the coffee table. Had she been watching her sleep?

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said, slowly sitting up.

Her mind was catching up now, reality reasserting itself around her. Shaw had called her after she’d finished stealing the virus back from the storage vault and told her to meet her back here later. She’d been working on her laptop (which was now closed and placed neatly on the coffee table though she had no memory of doing so) and she must have fallen asleep while waiting.

“Did I miss anything?” she asked. She wanted to ask what had happened to Tomas, but that would have been too obvious.

“Tomas left after we got the virus.”

Maybe it had been obvious anyway.

“And Reese and I dealt with disposing of it. Vault was empty by the time the ISA got there and since you fried all the cameras in the place we should be okay.”

“That’s good.” The way Shaw was watching her with a flat but intent stare was hard to interpret. Was she mad?

“The nightmares why I find you awake way too early some mornings?”

Root’s breath caught in her throat. Had Shaw known? She’d tried her best not to disturb her whenever she woke up.

“No, this was a one time thing. Must have slept too much or something.”

“Root.” Shaw’s voice held a warning in it.

“It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve had bad dreams since I was a kid.”

She’d never wanted Shaw to find out. Dreams were something she couldn’t control, couldn’t fight. A weakness she couldn’t rout out. It felt childish, silly.

Shaw nodded, her face still neutral and unreadable. Root shifted uneasily.

“Sounds like things turned out pretty well for you today,” she said, forcing brightness into her tone. “Maybe we should go celebrate. To a job well done.”

Not a single muscle in Shaw’s face moved; she kept watching her with that quiet intensity.

“I sleep here every night,” Shaw said finally. “Every night unless there’s something with a number that keeps me out. That’s not going to change.”

Root froze, uncertain Shaw was saying what she thought she was saying.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Shaw continued. “Partly because with Samaritan out there it’d be really dumb right now, but mostly because I don’t want to.”

Root nodded, unable to break away from Shaw’s stare.

“And you’re gonna stay here, too, when you’re not helping the Machine. For as long as you want anyway.”

“Shaw, I…”

“Not done, Root.” Shaw didn’t sound mad. Determined, maybe, but not mad. “But next time you have a nightmare you wake me up.”

Root shook her head. She didn’t want to pile her stupid problems onto Shaw.

“It’s pointless for both of us to lose sleep over something silly.”

“I’ll manage. And next time you get in over your head, like at the hotel, you call for backup.”

“But if Samaritan had seen you…”

Shaw’s flat stare transformed into a furious glare.

“Yeah, if they’d seen us our cover would have been blown and that would have been bad. And if Martine had caught you then you would have been dead. We’ve been over all this before, Root. The thing is, this--” She motioned back and forth between herself and Root. “--only works if we’re both alive for it to work.”

She settled back into her chair and looked at Root expectantly.

Root’s mind spun, trying to understand everything that Shaw had just implied. Shaw was confirming every hope she’d had about what there was between them, about what it meant to her. All Root had to do was accept that Shaw caring about her meant that risking her life wasn’t only about herself anymore.

She remembered how desperate she’d felt to survive back when Martine had been chasing her through the city. It had felt selfish, undeserved. She'd only wanted to stay alive to help the Machine and see Shaw again. What gave her the right to want those things?

Caring about people made you weak. That’s what she’d believed her whole life. But Shaw had just made it undeniably clear that she cared and Shaw was anything but weak.

“I don’t really care about what happens to me,” she said, slowly, keeping her eyes on Shaw. “Never seen much point. The world is…. I mean, why would it matter?”

It was something she’d always known about herself, but never put into words before. It felt weird saying it out loud, maudlin and a bit selfish, but it wasn’t something she knew how to change.

This level of honesty and sharing didn’t come easily to her, but it was impossible to lie with Shaw staring at her like she could see straight through her.

Shaw shifted in her seat, her jaw clenched, but waited for Root to finish.

“I think, though, if it's...if it's important to you--” Which it must have been since this was exactly the sort of conversation Shaw avoided like the plague. “--then I can try to be more careful even if it’s not something I’m used to.”

She picked at some chipping nail polish on her fingernails, not able to meet Shaw’s gaze any longer.

“My work for the Machine is important, and it's always going to carry risks. Huge risks. But maybe I haven’t been as cautious as I could. It’s hard for me to promise I’ll call for backup if the Machine and I both think it won’t end well, but.…”

She wasn’t sure what she could promise.

“I’ll try. I promise.” It was the best she could do for now.

She could tell that Shaw didn’t quite like the answer but after a minute she nodded and Root relaxed.

“You’re an idiot, but I already knew that,” Shaw said, lips turning up into a quick smile.

Root let out a long breath and then smiled, huge and relieved.

“I’m your favorite idiot.”

Shaw rolled her eyes, but the humor stayed in her face.

“Let’s get your idiotic ass to bed.”

She got up and headed towards the bedroom.

“And I meant it about waking me up,” she called back over her shoulder.

“I know.” Root still wasn’t sure if she’d be able to bring herself to wake Shaw up if she had another nightmare, but she’d at least think about it.

She took a minute to collect herself before following Shaw, trying to sort out everything that had happened.

The idea of asking other people, especially people she cared about, to put themselves in a risky situation to help her bothered her a lot. Shaw's life was more important to her than her own. But if this was what Shaw wanted, needed her to do, after all Shaw had done for her already, then she owed it to her to try.

Shaw must have been thinking about this a lot, which was good, but for her to have brought it up unprompted spoke to how much all of this meant to her. It felt like a heavy but warm weight settling on her.

She got up, stopping to scratch behind Bear’s ears before heading into the bedroom.

When she climbed into bed a little later she got on her side of the bed as usual and was startled when Shaw rolled over, almost on to her side. Shaw’s hand, warm and dry, dropped onto Root’s stomach, pushed under her shirt, fingers splayed out. Root waited a second to see if Shaw was going to say something or do something else, but Shaw only burrowed her head into her own pillow with a contented sigh.

Root cautiously put her own hand on top of Shaw’s and let it rest there. When it became clear Shaw wasn’t going to pull away she finally relaxed, full of wonder and gratitude at the simple gesture. Shaw made a small satisfied noise and her breathing evened out.

Root didn’t have any more nightmares that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really plan for Shaw and Root to have a conversation like this, but it felt like something they needed to get out of the way. I figured Root would never bring it up so it had to be Shaw who initiated it. As I said, still not completely happy with how this turned out but it was either post it or rewrite it forever.
> 
> I've been dying all week so the next chapter is only half done right now. If there isn't a chapter on Sunday then it'll be next Thursday. I'll try very hard for Sunday though.


	22. Shaw's Plan

 

Shaw looked at the mess of papers she’d spread out across her kitchen counter with her laptop, a really nice piece of hardware Root had stolen from somewhere for her, sitting in the middle. She’d been staring at all of her work blankly for over five minutes now, hoping her brain would focus on something she’d missed, some flaw she hadn’t seen before.

Working numbers for the Machine was often a hectic affair involving a lot of last-minute planning or no planning at all. It had been awhile since she’d had time to sit down and figure out an entire operation properly and she’d been surprised to find that she missed it. She was generally all about jumping into the action, knowing she was smart enough and fast enough to deal with whatever was coming, but there was also something immensely satisfying in lining all the pieces up ahead of time and then watching everything unfold as planned.

There were still a couple loose ends to tie up, and the end result wasn’t what she’d originally intended, but overall she was feeling pretty good about the whole thing.

On the other side of her living room, Bear got up from his bed and stretched before trotting over and looking up at her with big sad eyes. She turned so she could reach down and scratch his neck for him.

“I’ll take you out in a minute, big guy.”

A knock at her door broke her attention away from the dog and made her roll her eyes. Obviously it had to be Root and she had her own damn key so why was she making Shaw get up?

She got her answer when she opened the door and found Root with her hands full of several oversized bags.

“Please tell me that’s not more drugs,” Shaw said stepping to the side to let her in.

“No drugs this time, knock-off purses actually. And some guns in one of these bags somewhere, I think.”

Root dropped her bags on the floor and bent down to greet Bear properly.

“My apartment is not a storage facility for illegal contraband,” Shaw said, unzipping a bag at random and poking around through the contents. “And these are the ugliest purses I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“They’ll be gone by tomorrow,” Root promised getting back up and pulling her shoes off.

She was wearing some sort of business suit with a nice jacket and skirt that must have been horribly warm in the current weather outside.

“Who are you supposed to be this time?” Shaw asked, looking her up and down. Root could pull off professional attire well enough that it was hard to remember she enjoyed wandering around the apartment in shirts with terrible programming puns on them.

“Edna Clarke, a consultant for a software firm out of Chicago. I got a VIP tour of a state-of-the-art server farm near Boston yesterday.”

She’d been gone four days this time and other than a couple vague-yet-highly-inappropriate text messages Shaw hadn’t heard much from her.

“What does a software consultant need with a bunch of prada knock-offs?” Shaw asked, still looking through the bags for the supposed gun stash.

“Edna has a second job on the side, transporting quality fashion accessories into New York. I’ll hand them off tomorrow in exchange for cash and, if I’m lucky, some information.” Root moved to the counter and started poking through Shaw’s papers.

“And the guns?”

“Oh, no real reason for those. Consider them a contribution to the cause.”

Root held up one of the papers.

“You’ve been busy, I see.”

Shaw gave up on the bags and came over to snatch the paper away from her and replace it where it belonged.

“Yes, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mess it up.”

Root smirked but backed off and headed towards the bedroom.

“I’m going to change, then we can discuss how you’re going to properly welcome me back.”

Shaw didn’t waste the opportunity to get a good view of Root’s retreating back in the skirt as she walked away. Root turned back at the bedroom door with a small, smug smile like she just fucking knew somehow. Shaw immediately went back to organizing her papers because either Root assumed that Shaw always stared at her butt or the Machine had told on her and both of those options were aggravating as hell.

Things had been...easier since the talk they’d had a week ago. Root had been gone for half that time, but even in the short amount of time before that it had felt like they were both finally on the same page. Shaw wasn’t a big fan of the type of talk they’d had, but Root had let her say what she’d needed to and had responded by being about as honest as Shaw had ever heard her be. Considering how rare Root’s moments of complete sincerity were Shaw figured she’d gotten through to her, even if she hadn’t liked everything Root had to say.

She wasn’t sure what had made her more angry, that Root didn’t care about her own life, or that she didn’t see it as a problem. Root had made her a promise though, and for right now that was enough. It wouldn’t have been right of her to try and change Root, but maybe she could make sure she stayed alive long enough to change her own mind.

“Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

Root was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt that said ‘got root?’ on it in white letters that made Shaw want to bang her head against a wall. This was possibly the worst shirt yet. Root must be buying them from somewhere for the sole purpose of driving her nuts.

The fact that Root now kept clothes at her apartment (more than one set and usually actually put away in the closet or drawers and not thrown in a heap on the floor) was another new thing and had only happened when, after several pointed hints failed to get through to her, Shaw had taken a bag with her to the subway, thrown it in Root’s face and told her to get with the program. If she was going to make more of an effort for Root than she ever had for another person, then the least Root could do was acknowledge it in the most basic way.

The lava lamp was vetoed though. Shaw had standards.

“Not a lot. Worked a number but it was pretty unexciting. Helped Zoe bail some company out of some scandal. Oh, and Reese is on his third therapist now. Apparently they all keep referring him to someone else.”

“Never really seen the point in therapy,” Root said as she walked to the refrigerator, casually brushing up against Shaw as she passed. “Everyone’s fucked up. Why should I trust a stranger who’s undoubtedly weighed down with their own issues to help with mine?”

“It’s not exactly that simple,” Shaw said. She’d teased Reese about it, sure, but she’d taken some psychology classes in pre-med and she wasn’t prepared to dismiss it like Root was. “Not for everyone, though.”

She couldn't imagine Root ever opening up to a doctor, or anyone else for that matter. But for Reese, maybe talking about shit with a neutral party could be good for him if he let it.

“Definitely not for me,” Root said, pulling a bottle of orange juice out of the fridge and uncapping it.

“Root. Glass.”

Root sighed, over-dramatically, and went to get a glass out of the cabinets.

“I’ve had my mouth on pretty much every inch of you, but I can’t drink out of your juice carton?” she asked.

Shaw didn’t bother to respond to that. She took a somewhat perverse pleasure in forcing Root to adhere to some basic rules of civilization.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?” Shaw asked shaking her head at Root sulking over her glass of orange juice.

She was guilty of plenty of similar transgressions herself and in the last apartment she’d had there hadn’t even been enough glasses for it to matter. But this apartment was fully furnished and came with a full set of plates, glasses, and silverware that reminded her of all the rules she’d learned as a kid.

She’d been raised to follow her mother’s rules and even when she was being a total hypocrite (like drinking directly out of one of Finch’s nice whiskey bottles in front of him to watch his eye twitch) and ignoring them herself, it irritated her when other people did. Especially in her space.

Also she enjoyed having another way to annoy Root.

“No,” Root said. “Not really. Like everything else I learned manners to let me play roles. I never saw much use for them otherwise. Manners are polite lies.”

That explained why she had yet to take out the trash even once, though the inference about Root’s childhood made Shaw a little uncomfortable. She’d figured out at some point, mostly through comparison and outside opinions, that her own childhood had been pretty good all things considered. She’d lost her father, but her mother had never been anything except patient and supportive, had taken the time to set up the foundation of values that she’d spent the rest of her life building on.

She’d read Finch’s file on Root back when they’d first crossed paths, and while there wasn’t a lot to go on, the edges of the picture it painted were rather telling. Between that and the small hints Root dropped from time to time she felt like she'd gotten a little insight into how and why Root had become Root.

She’d thought about asking Root about it, but considering that Root’s entire life since then had been an absolute rejection of who she’d been and where she’d come from she wasn’t sure it would go over well.

“I’m taking Bear out for a walk,” she said, deciding that not acknowledging the touchy subject was the correct approach for now.

“Can I come along?” Root asked, putting her glass down immediately.

“If you really want to go back out into humidity soup, be my guest.”

The last daylight was fading from the sky when they stepped out onto the sidewalk but the heat of the day was still lingering. Root had decided that this was appropriate leather jacket weather probably, Shaw figured, out of some misguided notion that it made her look cool. At least it mostly covered up the dumb shirt.

“Imagine if there was no Samaritan out there and this was...a normal night, nothing more or less,” Root said as they paused to let Bear sniff a bike rack.

“Can’t imagine either of us settling down into a normal life.”

“A life without Samaritan,” Root clarified. “I’d still be the Machine’s interface, you and the boys would still be working the numbers. Things would still be exciting and a bit dangerous, but they’d be under control.”

“Make any progress on that thing you’re working on?” Shaw asked, because whatever that code was represented at least part of the way back to the life Root was talking about.

“A good bit, actually. Maybe being away for a few days helped. You’re very distracting.” Root shamelessly swept her eyes over Shaw. “Especially in that tank top.”

“Speaking of tank tops, I don’t suppose you know what happened to my favorite one?” She had noticed its absence about an hour after Root’s flight had left and it hadn’t been in the subway either.

“Shaw, I hate to tell you this but all your tank tops are the same,” Root said as they started walking again.

Shaw bristled.

“Okay, that’s total bullshit. There’s a whole bunch of different cuts. And I get slightly looser one to wear on really hot days and….” This was getting away from the point, which was probably Root’s intention.

“You stole it, didn’t you?” she asked, glaring in disapproval.

“I borrowed it. I was planning to return it.” Root was trying for a wide-eyed and adorable look that wouldn’t have worked on Shaw even if she hadn’t known it was totally fake.

“Why don’t you buy your own? If the Machine can get you disposable laptops she can definitely afford a fucking shirt.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s precious that you think I borrowed your shirt because I wanted a tank top to wear.”

Shaw had more or less known that wasn’t the reason.

“Ugh. If you’re going to insist on being a pervy stalker I’ll find you a shirt I don’t like as much.”

“As long as it’s…” Root stopped in the middle of whatever undoubtedly mildly-horrifying thing she’d been about to say and tilted her head to the side.

“Is John working on a number right now?” she asked.

“Yeah, uh, Silva. Dani Silva, I think? Some trainee at the police academy, who turned out to be an undercover IA agent, why?” He’d said he and Fusco had a handle on things so Shaw had been taking the time to work out the details of her own plan.

“Hmm, tell him to be sure and keep her safe.” Root’s face had that off-in-Machine-land look to it now and Shaw wondered what the chances of her walking into a pole were.

“Uh, I mean, he’s pretty sure she’s the victim not the perp so obviously he’s going to protect her.”

“Of course he will, but it’s worth stressing it.”

“First of all, tell him yourself. I’m not your messenger. Second of all, what’s so special about this number?”

“I don’t know yet,” Root said. “Maybe the Machine just likes her.”

As if he knew he was being discussed, Reese chose that minute to contact Shaw.

“Hey, Shaw, think I can borrow your dog?”

Shaw side-eyed Root suspiciously. Had she known Reese was about to call her? Probably. Some day they were going to have to have a talk about how being a self-satisfied know-it-all wasn’t even remotely sexy. Well, not when it left Shaw at a disadvantage anyway. It was pretty funny when she confused Fusco or Reese.

“What do you need Bear for?”

“Thinking about busting into the Trinitario’s headquarters. Thought bringing a dog might make them warm up to me.”

“Sure you don’t need human backup as well?”

“Thought you were busy plotting.”

“I’m done for now. I’ve got Root here as well, I’m sure she’d love a break from the thrilling life of questionably-legal retail.”

She saw Root smile at that.

“I’ll come pick you guys up at that one park.”

It was a meet up location they’d established that was nowhere near any one of their bases or apartments.

“We’ll be there.”

“You’re ruining all the plans I had for this evening,” Root complained when the call ended.

“You had plans?”

The raised eyebrow and smirk made it clear what Root’s plans had been.

“Having all of us there is probably overkill,” Shaw reasoned. “Should go fast. That way we’ll have time for both.”

“I suppose some quality violence _does_ get you worked up.” Root looked distracted, probably plotting the rest of the evening out in the gutter her mind lived in.

“I’ll leave the evening’s plans up to you then,” Shaw said. Root was quite creative and she hadn’t been disappointed yet. “Now let’s grab some guns and go meet Reese.”

 

* * *

 

“There’s a lot of questions I should be asking.”

Reese stood silently, hoping that Dani Silva chose _not_ to ask any of those questions. Behind him he heard Fusco sputtering as Bear shook himself dry all over him.

Their exit from the Trinitario’s base had involved blowing a hole in the bottom of a swimming pool and then jumping in. All of them were drenched and dripping on the sidewalk.

“Didn’t think you were a cop,” Dani continued. “Fusco maybe, but not you. And definitely not those two.”

She motioned at Root and Shaw who were having a good-natured bickering session a few feet away.

“Leather jackets aren’t meant to be submerged in chlorinated water, Sameen.”

“They’re not meant to be worn in ninety degree weather either.”

Reese tried to smile innocently at Dani.

“You and that one--” Dani nodded towards Shaw. “--both have some sort of military training, maybe spec ops. And the other one…. Not sure how to classify her fighting style. Or anything else about her.”

“Neither are we,” Reese muttered under his breath.

Dani narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

She was, Reese knew, way too clever to not have picked up on all the things that were massively wrong with the very vague explanations he’d provided for his teammates.

“Lot of questions I should be asking right now,” Dani repeated. “But I’ll save ‘em.”

Her smile turned into a confused frown at something happening behind Reese. He didn’t bother to turn around; chances were good it involved Root and was nothing he needed to witness.

“You ever think about getting out of the force?” he asked Dani to distract her.

“Not really. Why would I?”

“Corruption, HR, paperwork. The coffee.”

Dani laughed.

“Nah, I’m good where I am now. Like making a difference, you know. Helping people, setting things right.”

“You start feeling constrained by all the red tape, come look me up. There’s more than one way to help people,” Reese said.

Dani raised her eyebrows.

“Sounds like this is one of those questions I should be asking. Lucky for you I’ve got places to be tonight.”

She turned to leave.

“You know where to find me if you ever change your mind,” he called after her.

“I do, but I won’t.”

He watched her head down the street and disappear around a corner.

“Think she’ll change her mind?”

Shaw had done that thing where she snuck up without him hearing her. Someday he’d figure out how she got so damn good at that.

“Don’t know. Root’s the one who said the Machine was interested in her.”

“Dani’s been working undercover for awhile,” Root said, coming over from Fusco’s car.

She’d acquired a dry police jacket which she draped over Shaw’s shoulder.

“Once she has to work more in the normal day to day of the force, who knows?” Root shrugged. “The Machine will keep an eye on her.”

“Why her specifically?” Shaw asked, fidgeting with her new jacket a bit.

“I dunno, Shaw, she reminds me a bit of someone,” Reese teased.

“Who?” Shaw asked.

The look on his face must have given it away though because she scowled.

“Kid is nothing like me, Reese.”

“Half you, half Carter maybe. Well, we already have Root Jr. in training, why not a Shaw Jr. as well?”

That got him glares from both women.

“Guess we’ll have to round it out by finding your replacement,” Shaw said with a malicious smirk. “Probably some high school loser who beats up bullies for fun. Stares off into the distance a lot and drops cheesy one-liners about doing the right thing.”

Reese decided he wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer.

“Maybe after Samaritan’s gone,” Root said. “Some day the Machine will need to replace us all. All hardware goes bad eventually.”

“Speak for yourself.” Shaw was trying to wring her wet ponytail out on Root’s feet.

Reese was glad that whatever the hell had happened with Tomas was behind them. Root looked happier than he’d seen her since Samaritan came online and while Shaw wasn’t noticeably different, it was as if she’d forgotten that she was supposed to act annoyed when Root was fawning over her.

“I got to get this guy down to the station,” Fusco said coming over to them. “Any of you olympic swimmers need a lift?”

Root strolled over to him and threw a companionable arm around his shoulders, dripping water everywhere.

“That is so nice of you to offer, Lionel.”

He extricated himself from her hold, trying to brush the water off of his suit.

“Forget I asked. You’re not invited anymore. How about you two?”

“I’m good,” Shaw said.

“We’re going to steal a motorcycle,” Root told Reese in a loud whisper that drew an outraged glare from Fusco.

“I’ll take you up on the ride,” Reese said, hurriedly.

“Let’s get out of here before I have to arrest someone else,” Fusco grumbled.

Root beamed at him.

“Oh, tomorrow, need all of you at the subway,” Shaw said. “Gotta plan for dealing with that training facility.”

“What time?” Reese asked.

“Thinking sometime in the morning...like…”

Root cut her off by leaning down and whispering something in her ear. Shaw’s face went totally blank and then she shook her head slightly.

“Uh, actually, afternoon. Let’s say one pm.”

Reese nodded.

“We’ll see you then.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw adjusted the strap on the gas mask she was holding and shifted her weight back and forth in the back of the parked van. Reese and Fusco were both crouched beside her, waiting for the signal to move out.

What the hell was taking so long?

“Root?”

This was the third time she’d called for an update.

“Almost there, sweetie. These tunnels are a bit of a maze.”

Root’s voice was echoing weirdly, no doubt from the service tunnel she was currently making her way through.

“Did you get lost?” Shaw asked.

She glanced over at Reese hoping to exchange a moment of shared amusement at the idea of Root wandering lost underground. Reese had his serious face on though and probably wouldn’t have made an expression if his life depended on it. What a waste.

“Her blueprints of these tunnels are somewhat out of date,” Root said, unaware of the failed moment of solidarity that had occurred. “You’d think they’d be required to update them whenever construction was done.”

“Yes, I’m sure the people in city planning are all terrible and inconsiderate but are you done yet?” It was really hard to keep an adrenaline buzz going while stuck in the back of an overheated van with two obnoxious sweaty men.

“Well, someone’s eager,” Root teased.

Fusco shifted uncomfortably behind Shaw. She would have told Root that they weren’t on a private channel except one, she already knew that and two, it would only encourage her.

“All done,” Root said, cheerfully. “So much for their private fiber-optic network.”

“We’re clear then?”

“All lines running in are down, except for power, of course.”

Root’s footsteps through the tunnels were loud over the comlink.

“Let’s go,” Shaw said to the other two.

She shoved the back door of the van open and dropped to the street. They were parked behind the Samaritan training facility, almost directly next to the door she and Reese had broken in through last time. Apparently they’d gotten very lucky since it was the only door that a security card wasn’t required for.

Shaw paused by the door and pulled her gas mask on over her face. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fusco and Reese doing the same thing. She’d spent way too much time looking through the only available building design plans for the place and when it had come time for her and Reese to access the building’s ventilation systems there’d been a lot of improvised crawling around on the roof last night. But it had paid off and hopefully if the timer had gone off correctly everyone inside should be taking a nice long nap.

Someone had replaced the lock they’d picked last time with a slightly more sophisticated lock that took Shaw a whole extra 3 seconds to get through. She was insulted that they hadn’t given her more of a challenge.

Once inside the three of them split up to make sure the small janitorial wing was clear. There hadn’t been much in the way of information on the internal layout of the building, but she’d tracked down a contract company who’d been hired to install the security card lock system. The company that made the security locks and printed up the cards for new employees was owned by Samaritan (formerly by Decima), but not in themselves important enough to be under a great deal of scrutiny.

The Machine had given Root some fancy identity that allowed her to sashay right into the security company and have them print her a security card of her very own. And what harm was there if she’d taken the liberty of making a couple more while she was there? The cards were the only easy way into the rest of the building since the janitorial wing was cut off from everything else by a sealed door.

The only other door in the wing that needed card access was the room with all the monitors that she’d spotted last time. She headed there first and swiped her card to open the door.

The guard who was supposed to be on duty there was taking a nap on the floor. She stepped over him and scanned the monitors for any sign of life. The internal camera system was still up and running, but the signals were no longer being broadcast outside the building. No one could see them here.

She shoved the guard on the floor onto his back, pulled a digital camera out of her pocket, and snapped a picture of his face. It wasn’t the fanciest backup plan ever, but it would work.

“Looks like everyone’s down for the count,” she updated the team.

“This area is clear,” Reese confirmed over the comm.

“Nothin’ but mops and buckets here,” Fusco agreed.

Once they were through the sealed door and out in the rest of the building they had a lot less to go on. Shaw had tried to piece together some sort of layout based on old building designs and the pictures she’d taken last time, but it wasn’t anything solid to go on.

“Hope you saved some for me,” Root said over the comlink.

Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Everyone’s unconscious already, Root. Shooting them at this point would be a waste of bullets.”

“I’d rather shoot fish in a barrel than in the ocean.”

“Just...don’t shoot anyone, okay?” She knew that Root was joking, and probably was only joking because she was nervous about walking into a building full of Samaritan agents even if they were unconscious.

Shaw found the staircase and headed to the second floor immediately. There were some people on the ground in the hallway and a couple rooms full of bunk beds. Looked like a barracks to her. She made sure to get pictures of all the people she found. Hopefully they could find a damn computer soon and figure out if they even needed to keep doing this.

“What are we supposed to be lookin’ for here?” Fusco asked over comm.

“Computers, Fusco. Preferably ones behind some kind of high security door,” Reese answered.

All the time she'd spent planning had gone into how to knock out everyone in the building and cut off all the external communications; there hadn’t been a lot she could plan beyond that since they had almost no clue what was in here. However this was Samaritan they were dealing with. It thrived off of digital information. She felt like she had a pretty good chance to find some solid digital intel if they could find a computer. And if not….

She paused to snap a picture of an unconscious man who was slowly sliding off of his chair onto the floor.

It not then they’d at least have a slightly hilarious photo album of a ton of active Samaritan agents in the New York area. The Machine would probably be able to use facial recognition to keep an eye out for all of the agents once they uploaded the pictures for her.

“Hey, babe, I think I found your door,” Root said. “But turns out there’s a couple not-so-unconscious people down here. Wanna come play?”

Shaw would have taken issue with the whole ‘babe’ thing if it weren’t for the fact that Root had actually asked for backup all on her own. Red-letter day right there.

“Where you at?”

Root had apparently gone down the stairs rather than up and ended up in a basement. She was leaning against a wall fussing with one of her guns when Shaw found her. She immediately pushed off the wall and came over to meet Shaw.

“I haven’t gotten to even fire a gun in a week,” Root said, voice still coming through over the comm since they were both wearing gas masks. “But I figured in the spirit of all our newfound closeness it would be much more fun to shoot people together.”

Shaw was about to tell Root where she could stick her spirit of newfound closeness, but Reese interrupted before she could.

“Fusco and I found something up here. Not a fancy computer or anything, but there’s hard copies of a lot of stuff. Looks like staff records, receipts, financial stuff.”

“Grab whatever you can find,” Shaw said. “Root and I are working on the digital side of things.”

While Samaritan couldn’t see what was going on inside the building, it would know that something had cut its access which meant they couldn’t spend too much time here. Hopefully Root was right about this door.

“That one.”

Root pointed at a large metal door further down the hall. The door had a slim window set in it (though she’d bet the glass was bullet-proof) that let her get a glimpse of a room full of hardware and blinking lights and a couple of men moving around. They looked like they were arguing.

“Think they warned Samaritan?” Shaw asked.

“It’s possible,” Root said with a shrug. “There’s no hardline out of the building, no phone service, and I set up something to jam cell communication, but I wouldn’t bet against Samaritan having a backup plan.”

“Let’s hurry this up then.”

She reached to use her card on the security lock but Root pulled her arm back.

“There’s another option.” Root pointed at the door. “This isn’t sealed only for security. All the oxygen can be sucked from the room inside. It’s in case of a fire and maybe related to why they didn’t get hit with enough gas to be knocked out. A lot of server rooms have something like that. It won’t work with people inside but I might be able to override it.”

“We’re not here to kill anyone,” Shaw reminded her. “Even indirectly.”

Root only smiled. “Thought I’d offer.”

“Just be ready.”

They were unfortunately at a tactical disadvantage in that they really didn’t want to shoot any of the machines behind the men in the room so they were going to have to be careful with their shots.

When the door swung open, Shaw popped around the frame and shot one of the men twice in the knee. Of the five men she’d seen inside only two looked like actual guards, while the other three looked more like engineers of some sort. She’d aimed for one of the guards.

A hail of gunfire followed her as she retreated back behind the safety of the wall. She waited until the shooting had stopped and then caught Root’s eye. At her quick nod they both moved back into the doorway firing as they went. Three more men dropped, leaving only one very scared looking guy who has his hands up in the air.

“Make this real simple for you,” Shaw said, advancing on the last man. “Help us get what we need and you get to keep your kneecaps.”

“Sweetie, I don’t need his help,” Root complained as she kicked the weapons from the fallen men away. “It’s no fun if someone just _gives_ you information.”

“We’re on a clock here,” Shaw reminded her, motioning at the man with her gun so he skittered over to a monitor setup on the side of the room. “Definitely not fun time.”

The man had logged into one of the computers and was sitting in the computer chair looking at both of them nervously.

Root sighed dramatically and shoved the man’s chair so it went rolling away to the side. She busied herself at the computer monitor, rapidly typing into a terminal window.

“This seems to be the central server for the rest of the building,” she said as she typed. She paused to pull a usb drive out of her pocket and stick it into a machine nearby before returning to her work.

“Anything we can use on there?” Shaw asked, keeping an eye on the lab tech.

“Oh, I definitely think so. All the personnel files for starters,” Root said gleefully. “We can stop taking pictures now. I’m pulling down a copy of anything even remotely interesting. Also found the backup of all the internal camera feeds. I’ve killed the cameras and I'm wiping all the recorded feed data.”

Shaw took that time to get back in touch with the boys.

“Hey guys, we’ve got what we were after. Don’t worry about any more pictures. Grab anything you see that looks important and get back to the van. We’ll be there in ten.”

“See you there,” Reese responded.

Shaw waited impatiently for Root to be done with the files, alternating between staring coldly at the terrified lab tech and checking to make sure the men who were down weren’t waking up.

“Done.” Root grabbed the usb drive and stuck it in her pocket.

“What’s your name?” Shaw asked the lab tech, who was gaping at both of them in horror.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Root’s curious look under her gas mask.

“Uh, Roger?” The man looked like he was about to pass out.

“Okay, here’s the deal, Roger. The people you work with are going to have a lot of questions for you. Now, you could tell them the truth but I don’t think you’d like how that’d work out for you. Much better if you were unconscious the whole time like your buddies here.”

Roger made a whimpering noise.

“So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to knock you out and then my friend here is going to shoot you in the leg so you match your friends. If I were you I’d tell the nice men who come to ask you questions that you didn’t see or hear anything. You were down for the count, right?”

She thought Roger might be on the verge of hyperventilating, especially after he glanced over at Root and she favored him with a blood-curdling grin that showed all of her teeth.

Which, okay, was pretty hot in a seriously fucked up way.

“Say goodnight, Roger.”

Roger collapsed like a ton of bricks when Shaw knocked him out. She stepped back and motioned to Root who put a bullet in his leg a little below the knee. Shaw figured the Machine had probably told her to make it as benign as possible since the man was already out cold. She’d never known Root to voluntarily pull her punches.

“Let’s get out of here,” Shaw said.

They picked their way over the fallen men and headed back towards the stairs.

“Why’d you have me shoot him?” Root asked, as they passed back into the janitorial wing and made for the exit.

“You were the one going on about shooting unconscious people,” Shaw said. “Figured I’d let you do the honors.”

“Aww, sweetie,” Root said as they pushed back out into daylight. “That is _so_ thoughtful of you.”

The van was parked right where they’d left it, Reese in the driver’s seat ready in case they needed to make a fast getaway. Shaw jumped into the back of the van and waited for Root to get in as well before slamming the doors. They both pulled their gas masks off and grabbed onto the handholds on the side of the van.

“Thanks for watching my back down there,” Root said as the van took off.

“That’s how this works...” Shaw started.

Root didn’t let her finish.

“I think we’re really good at this whole watching each other’s backs thing,” Root continued right over her. “You certainly do love watching mine.”

She tipped her head sideways and purposefully dropped her gaze down Shaw’s body.

Shaw struggled to decide between anger or sarcasm because holy fuck they had just carried off a successful raid on a Samaritan base and Root thought that _now_ was a good time to hit on her? She ended up not having to choose either because Reese cut in.

“Okay, as touching as all this is,” Reese called from the driver’s seat. “Someone want to tell me where we’re headed?”

“She’s giving me directions to a dead zone where we can switch vehicles,” Root said. She attempted to wink at Shaw before sliding up closer to the front seats to direct Reese.

 

* * *

 

Root stretched her legs out and settled her laptop into a better position in her lap. On the other side of the bed Shaw glanced over at her (there was a solid ban on laptops in bed) but didn’t complain.

“So how’d we do?” Shaw asked eventually.

Root was still sorting through the enormous amount of data they’d found. The files themselves weren’t large (mostly databases, text, spreadsheets, some images) but there were tons of them. The Machine had already absorbed all the information but She was being quiet right now so Root was on her own to look through them.

“We did really, really well,” Root said.

“Yeah?” Shaw scooted over so she could get a look at the screen.

“For starters there’s all the personnel files we got. It’s going to make recognizing Samaritan agents much easier for Her and us.”

Shaw gave an approving grunt, and moved in even closer so she could see better. She was more or less pressed up against Root’s side now, the back of her head almost touching Root’s shoulder.

“Scroll down,” Shaw said after a second.

Root realized she’d frozen completely and wasn’t even looking at her screen anymore. Shaw’s hands might have been all over her when they had sex, but outside of that this level of closeness was unusual for Shaw to initiate.

“What’re those?” Shaw asked, pointing at another folder Root hadn’t opened yet.

Root pulled up a couple of the documents from the folder and drew in a sharp breath.

“Are these…?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

Shaw’s eyes lit up.

“Looks like a list of properties in the five boroughs owned by Samaritan and its subsidiaries.”

Root nodded, paging through a few more files.

“Now we know who and we know where.” Shaw sounded eager.

“It’ll definitely make it easier to avoid them,” Root agreed.

“Avoid for now,” Shaw said. “And when it’s time to go on the offensive we know where to strike.”

Root fought down the unsettled feeling that left in her. There’d been a lot of armed agents in that facility today. More than their team could handle easily. At some point they were going to have to fight and part of that fight would be online, in the world of AIs, but part of it would also be out in the physical world with guns and bombs.

“Anything on there you can use to make their lives harder?” Shaw asked, not noticing her discomfort. “Bank accounts to empty or incriminating emails you can leak?”

“Possibly,” Root said. “But I’m not sure I’d trust myself to be able to hide my tracks from Samaritan.”

She was remembering how Samaritan had reverse hacked her phone recently when she’d been looking into those damn tablets.

“First time I’ve ever heard you doubt your own skills.”

“I’m not arrogant enough to assume I’m in the same league as an AI.”

Shaw fell quiet, watching as Root continued to click through the files they’d stolen. It was going to take days to really get through all of this. Fortunately, the Machine had already analyzed and filed away all the data. She’d fill Root in on the important parts when She thought it was safer to talk again.

Root probably could have gone to the subway to talk to Her now, but Shaw had all of them on lockdown for two weeks. For Reese, Shaw, and Fusco that meant showing up at their normal jobs every day without fail and not doing anything even remotely suspicious. For Root that meant she wasn’t allowed to go outside at all.

She’d tried to argue that the Machine would give her a new identity that would keep her safe, but Shaw had been worried that suspicious new identities might be just what Samaritan was looking for right now. The Machine hadn’t backed up Root on this one though so she’d given up. She could have stayed at the subway for two weeks, but the bathroom there was barely usable and there was no easy way to get food delivered. So she was Shaw’s prisoner for now.

“Put this back out in the living room,” Shaw said, tapping the top of the laptop. “You’re gonna have plenty of time in the next two weeks to stare at the screen til you go blind.” She slid back to her side of the bed and flopped down on her back, ready to sleep.

Root settled for putting it on the floor.

“If I hear you typing in the middle of the night…” Shaw threatened.

“You’ll what?” Root asked. She flipped over so she was on her hands and knees and crawled across the bed, propping herself up over Shaw.

Shaw’s eyes widened slightly and then she smirked.

“It’ll be a surprise.”

“Oh yeah?” Root asked. She leaned down so her mouth was so close to Shaw’s they could feel each other’s breaths. If Shaw thought she was going to get the drop on her….

She felt Shaw’s leg hit her in the side and then the whole room turned upside down and she was on her back with Shaw pinning her.

“Maybe I need to start giving you some hand-to-hand training,” Shaw said, looking greatly amused. “That was sad.”

Root wriggled underneath her.

“You can start right now if you want.”

Shaw nodded, trying to look serious.

“That was the plan.” She leaned down to brush her lips against Root’s. “I mean it about the laptop, though. I hear it even once, I throw the damn thing against a wall.”

“Hmm, you could throw me against a wall, instead. Sounds fun.”

“Think I can manage both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'got root' shirt is one they used to sell...on thinkgeek maybe? I don't remember. It was a joke on 'got milk?' except root, as in root/administrative access...yeah, it wasn't even very funny but that's sort of what Root's going for...maximum face-palm value.
> 
> Next chapter should be thursday.
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [ Ending the Day With a Bang](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/25716636) rated E.


	23. The Cold War

 

“Tell me, do you believe in what we do?”

Martine Rousseau looked up from cleaning her gun to see Jeremy Lambert leaning against the little desk that Greer had set up in the middle of the empty building they were currently camped out in. It must have been costing a fortune to pay for real-estate like this in the financial district of New York City, but then money had never been a problem for them.

“What sort of question is that?”

She wasn’t sure why Greer insisted on keeping Lambert around, let alone as his right-hand man. He was decent at best in a firefight and his insufferable smugness was a pale shadow of Greer’s confidence.

“I’m wondering if you believe in what we do here. Really believe. What does working for Samaritan mean to you beyond a rather sizable paycheck?”

Martine focused on running the cloth over her gun, choosing her words carefully. After all, Samaritan was always listening.

“I believe in being on the winning side,” she said at last.

“And you’re so sure that Samaritan is the winning side?”

“I’ve seen what it can do. There’s nothing that can match that sort of power. Why? What do _you_ believe in beyond toadying?”

Lambert crossed his arms and shifted his position against the table.

“For a long time I believed in Greer. His mission. When Samaritan came online he told me that it was the future, the only thing worth believing in. So I obligingly transferred my faith to it.”

“And you’d say you’re loyal to it over Greer now?”

“Of course.”

She doubted that somehow. She thought that if Samaritan ordered Lambert to kill Greer he might have some second thoughts. Maybe he’d end up doing it, but it wouldn’t be blind loyalty.

As for herself…. Greer could be replaced; there was only one Samaritan and he would never measure up to it. She didn’t worship the thing like Greer did or like that crazy zealot Groves did with her inferior machine, but she admitted its power.

“So what’s your endgame here, Lambert?” she asked, focused on her gun so she didn’t have to look at his annoying little face. “What do you get out of all this?”

“I get to serve my god,” Lambert replied immediately. “What more could I ever want than that?”

She stayed silent, waiting for his inevitable inability to keep his mouth shut to drag more out of him.

“I get to see Samaritan reshape the world,” Lambert continued like she’d known he would. “I get to help build the future. What about you, Martine, my dear?”

She stiffened slightly at that. Greer calling her ‘my dear’ she put up with, but if Lambert did it again she was shooting him in the foot. For starters.

“This question game is getting old,” she said. “But since you asked so nicely…. I get free reign to do what I enjoy the most.”

Lambert chuckled. “You really are bloodthirsty, aren’t you?”

Martine smiled coldly. “I know what I like and I found a way to get paid very well to do it. Isn’t that the dream?”

“My dreams are much larger than that,” Lambert started.

Martine held back a groan; he sounded like he was about to go off again. Maybe she should shoot him in the foot anyway. Greer could deduct his hospital bills from her paycheck.

“Nice to see you two getting along so well.”

Speak of the devil, she thought as Greer came into the room.

“What’s the latest, sir?” asked Lambert, straightening up.

Martine almost rolled her eyes at his sycophantic voice.

“Samaritan has planned a little entertainment for us. Between that...raid...by the Machine’s agents and the Machine’s continued persistence Samaritan has decided that it’s time to send a message.”

“What sort of message?” Martine asked, curiosity piqued. Most of Samaritan’s ‘messages’ ended up with someone dying and that was very definitely entertainment she could get behind.

“That’s not for us to know,” Greer said with one of those smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. “But your assistance will be required. Both of you.”

“What will we be doing, sir?” Lambert was almost vibrating with eagerness.

“You’ll be making the city a safer place,” Greer said. “Saving the innocent and keeping the peace.”

Martine snorted. “Sounds dull.”

Greer gave her a tolerant smile. “Don’t worry, my dear. I have the feeling your particular talents will be in high demand quite soon. I think Samaritan has something rather unique in mind, something to draw out the Machine and its agents.”

That sounded much better to her. She could finally deal with the annoying one who kept vanishing from under her nose. And the other woman, Shaw, looked like she’d put up a good fight. Lambert could deal with the big, boring one. Maybe she’d get lucky and they’d kill each other.

“Can’t wait.”

 

* * *

 

Root leaned back on the couch and stretched.

“You really think this is our best option?”

The Machine confirmed that She thought it was not only the best option but possibly the only one with a reasonable chance of working. Unfortunately ‘a reasonable chance’ was still pretty low odds.

“Can you do that, though? I mean with Harold’s constraints on you is that even possible?”

She twisted her head to look around Shaw’s apartment. Shaw was out working a number with Reese and Fusco today rather than helping Zoe, which was a violation of her own rules about laying low, but apparently helping Carl Elias overrode the rules for some reason.

The Machine was spinning off more statistics, none of which really meant anything to Root in the grand scheme of things. She held back a sigh. She wasn’t frustrated with the Machine; she was frustrated with the whole situation and with the fact she’d been stuck inside for nine days now. If it weren’t for the tremendous amount of coding she’d gotten done and the steady diet of consolation sex she would have gone crazy.

She started in surprised when the Machine ended Her string of statistics with something very new and different.

“So that’s why you have me building the server farm,” she said, thoughtfully. “Does this mean...does this mean you trust me now? Not to change things you don’t ask me to?”

Root smiled at the answer. It had been worth waiting for.

“That’s good to hear. Now, think you can give me a sneak peek at what Shaw and the boys are up to?”

The Machine apparently didn’t have any footage right then but She informed Root that they were escorting Carl Elias and his associate through one of Elias’s properties. There were a large number of Brotherhood men also in the building but the Machine seemed confident that the team would be able to handle them.

“I don’t suppose they desperately need my backup then?” She really needed to get out and stretch her legs soon. Five more days stuck here did not sound pleasant.

Root got up and headed into the bedroom. She checked her hidden stash of nerdy shirts one more time. Shaw kept finding them and getting rid of them so she’d started hiding them all over. Apparently Shaw had found the ones at the bottom of the laundry hamper, and the ones in the shoe box under the bed, but had missed the ones crammed in the back of the drawer full of sex toys.

She’d have to pick out a good one to wear for when Shaw got home this evening. Maybe that would be the only thing she’d wear. That would probably really annoy the hell out of Shaw and turn her on at the same time, which was Root’s entire goal.

She settled on the shirt that said ‘Change your password.’ (a fitting choice since she’d hacked Shaw’s laptop earlier in a fit of boredom...she’d been disappointed that there’d been no illicit pictures of either of them on the hard drive) and changed into it, actually taking the time to put Shaw’s tank top in the laundry basket. Shaw had recently had a discussion with her about ‘laundry’ and ‘not leaving a fucking mess everywhere’ and ‘not unplugging my phone while it’s charging so you can charge all five of your laptops’. She thought she was doing great so far.

She settled back on the couch and opened up her code to pick up where she’d left off.

“I wish you’d tell me what this part you’re writing does,” she complained. She recognized all the commands used, but it didn’t seem to actually do anything.

The Machine chose not to respond. This wasn’t the first time Root had asked about it, and she was trying very hard not to get distracted and pick it apart instead of focusing on what she was actually supposed to be working on.

She must have dozed off at some point (something that happened a good bit since her sleep schedule, despite Shaw’s efforts and threats, was still erratic at best) because the next thing she knew the front door was banging shut and Shaw was storming in.

“Hey, honey, how was your day?” Root deadpanned, rubbing her eyes.

“Fucking Elias blew up half his own building for kicks without warning us.”

There was plaster dust in her hair. Root got up and came over to her to try and brush it out but Shaw batted her hands away, irritably.

“Did you get Elias out okay?” She didn’t particularly care about the mobster, but Shaw seemed very angry about something.

“Yeah, him and his stooge. Took down a sizable chunk of the Brotherhood as well. They’re gonna be rethinking their options now.”

Shaw pushed past her to get a beer out of the fridge, drinking half of it down in one go.

“Why so cranky then?” Root leaned against the counter and tried not to stare at Shaw’s throat while she swallowed. It was both delightful and unfair how everything Shaw did was so damn hot.

“I’m not cranky,” Shaw snapped, slamming her beer bottle onto the counter.

Root only raised an eyebrow at that.

Shaw sighed.

“Shooting up a gang was fun and all but...we busted up a Samaritan stronghold and now we’re back to the waiting game. I know the Machine is getting good intel on all the agents scampering around trying to find us, but I’m ready to be out there doing something.”

That probably explained why she’d been willing to help Elias despite her rules. That and Reese basically begging her.

“Well, the good news is that the Machine and I have a much better idea of where we’re going with this code now,” Root said. She hadn’t been planning to say anything quite yet, but maybe it would cheer up Shaw.

“Oh yeah?” Shaw was still frowning, but she looked interested now.

“Hmm, yeah. It’s hard to explain exactly but it’s a way for Her to corrupt Samaritan’s core heuristics.”

“Will that work?” Shaw asked, doubtfully. “Can’t it just, I don’t know, uncorrupt them right back?”

Root actually had been worried about something similar, but the Machine was insisting it was their best plan.

“She seems to think She can manage it,” Root said. “Though I don’t know all the details.”

Shaw nodded. “That’s good. We can fight back and finally kick this thing’s ass. Go back to normal.”

Root smiled for Shaw’s benefit while wondering what normal was. She’d never really had a normal. Would Finch come back after Samaritan was defeated? Would he try to hurt the Machine or would he go back to the irrelevant numbers? Would there be a place for her still?

No point in worrying about that yet.

Shaw must have noticed her mood anyway because she rolled her eyes.

“You’re not allowed to start moping again. You’ll be out of here in a few more days and free to steal handbags or jump out of windows again.”

Shaw paused and her eyes narrowed.

“Where did you get that shirt from?”

Root grinned and this time it was for real.

“You like it, sweetie?”

Shaw looked disgusted.

“I thought I’d found them all.”

Root tsked at her.

“Not quite as clever as you thought you were, Sameen.”

Shaw shrugged and downed the rest of her beer.

“Apartment isn’t that big. It’s only a matter of time. Not like you can get them shipped here without me finding out.”

Root had been getting them shipped to Reese who was her gleeful accomplice in all of this.

“So are you back to the numbers now?” Root asked, casually. If Shaw was going to break her own rules consistently then there was no reason for Root not to as well.

“Nah, hopefully the next five days will be nice and quiet so we can rest up for some real fun.”

“Real fun?”

“Yeah, taking Samaritan down. That’s what comes next, right?”

The code still wasn’t close to ready, but it was getting there.

“I suppose so.” Root sighed. She was itching to fight back as much as Shaw was, but there was a feeling of impending dread in her stomach. She needed a way to get both of them to stop thinking about this for now.

“Five quiet days it is,” she said, casually moving around the counter.

Shaw must have thought she was headed to the refrigerator because she didn't realize what Root's plan was until Root had stepped up behind her and trapped her against the counter.

“Tell me something, Sameen--” Root pressed up against Shaw's back and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “--Exactly how quiet do you think you can manage?”

She grabbed Shaw's hand when it reached back for her and pinned it to the counter. There was a brief struggle over Shaw's free hand, but Root pinned that one as well, her hands pressing down on Shaw's.

Of course they both knew that Shaw could break away easily, have Root out cold on the floor in seconds, but that wasn't part of the game. This time anyway.

“Because I'm thinking you can't even stay quiet for five minutes, let alone five days,” Root continued.

Shaw flashed her an insulted look over one shoulder but kept her mouth shut.

Root molded herself to Shaw's back, grinding her hips into her a little to push her further into the counter side.

Shaw's breath caught lightly, but she didn't allow any real sound to escape.

Normally Root would have taken her time, drawn it out for almost the full five minutes, but she was trying to chase away thoughts of Samaritan and what came after. No time to play nice.

She released Shaw's hands in favor of putting her one hand lightly on Shaw's waist, the other fisted in her hair, pulling her head to the side to expose her neck. She dropped her mouth from Shaw's ear down to her neck and licked and sucked her way down along her throat. When she got to her favorite spot, right where the neck met the shoulder, she licked the skin once, and then bit down hard.

Shaw made a choked noise, desperately trying to hold back her response. Root smiled around the bite and rolled her hips forward while simultaneously letting the fingers of her free hand ghost up Shaw's side under her shirt, feather-light in touch.

“Fuck.” It was a half-curse, half-moan, and it definitely counted as breaking the quiet.

Root released Shaw's neck and soothed the angry bite mark with a kiss.

“Not even three minutes,” Root said shaking her head. “You're slipping, sweetie.”

“Shut up,” Shaw growled. “You wanna mark me up like that, you'd better follow through.”

“Definitely not an issue,” Root replied, amused.

She moved back enough that Shaw could turn around and face her and then leaned down to kiss her, using the hand in Shaw’s hair to keep her trapped there. She was almost startled when Shaw grabbed her face with both hands, pulling her deeper into the kiss. She tasted like beer and smelled faintly of sweat and Root never wanted to be anywhere else again.

When they finally released each other from the kiss they were both breathing heavily.

“So I think I want a rematch on this staying silent game,” Shaw said, a smile curling on her lips. “Needed to warm up was all.”

“Oh, and would you say you're warmed up now?” Root asked, very amused.

“Gettin’ there.”

“Rematch it is, then. But we both know you'll never manage to stay quiet for long.”

“Try me.”

Neither of them were ready for how quiet the next day was going to be.

 

* * *

 

Shaw threw Bear’s chew-toy down the subway platform with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” she asked the room at large.

Reese, the only one there aside from Bear, only responded with a confused grimace.

“Samaritan is working the irrelevant numbers,” Shaw said, annoyed that she was apparently going to have to hold up both sides of the conversation by herself. “Why?”

Reese shrugged and dropped a piece of peel from the orange he was eating onto the desk.

“You had two numbers that they took care of before you could get there today.” She paused to take Bear’s toy back from him and throw it again. At least he was participating. “What’s in it for them?”

“Trying to catch us helping the numbers?” Reese suggested, finally.

“Why not stake them out then? They’re actively engaging with the numbers and fixing the problems before we get there.”

“Maybe it’s part of some larger Samaritan plan?” Reese didn’t sound very convinced.

“I guess I shouldn’t complain,” Shaw said, relenting. “If the damn thing is saving lives instead of taking them maybe we can retire early.”

“Samaritan agents _are_ actively trying to kill us,” Reese reminded her. “I don’t trust this.”

Shaw didn’t either, but the fact she couldn’t see any nefarious reason behind Samaritan’s actions was puzzling.

“Fusco said they’re having a great day at the precinct today,” Reese continued. “Crime is down, arrests are up. He’s in a cheerful mood. For once.”

“Think it could be a distraction?” Shaw asked. “Have us focused on this while they’re up to something else?”

“I suppose…”

Reese was cut off when Root chimed in over their comlinks.

“Samaritan’s up to something,” she announced. “This might be that retaliation we were worried about.”

Shaw exchanged a look with Reese.

“So far all we’ve seen is Samaritan saving a bunch of numbers,” she said. “Is it doing something else?”

“That’s part of it.”

There was noise over the connection that sounded like bus brakes squealing.

“Are you outside, Root?” Shaw asked suspiciously.

“Samaritan is running the city,” Root said, ignoring the question. “Everything is running on time: subways, buses, trains. Anything it can control, it is.”

“I mean that’s pretty odd, but how is the subway being on time bad?” Reese asked.

“Have you asked yourselves why Samaritan would do something like this when it has absolutely no benefit to it?” Root sounded almost angry, definitely far more agitated than Shaw had heard her be in days.

“You know why?”

There were footsteps on the stairs and Root appeared in person, sweeping in and over to the main console in the subway car without pausing to greet them.

“Samaritan is trying to talk to Her.”

Shaw joined Root in the car and Reese came over to lean on the doorframe.

“ _This_ is how it talks?” Shaw asked. “It can’t, I don’t know, send an email?”

“It’s a display of power,” Root explained, pulling up some windows on the computer. “It’s showing off what it can do to try and initiate a conversation.”

“It’s going to be so _nice_ that the Machine has to talk to it?” Reese’s confusion mirrored Shaw’s own.

Root shook her head.

“This is a polite request. I have a feeling the next request will be a lot less polite.”

“So, is she gonna talk to it?” Shaw asked.

Root shook her head again.

“At the moment it’s just gotten Her attention. If it reaches out further She’ll consider Her options. But until then…”

“Until then the city is safe and sound and we can all catch some R and R.” Shaw dropped onto one of the subway seats, folded her hands behind her head, and leaned back.

If anything this made Root look even more agitated.

“We can’t get complacent because of this,” she said, getting up from the computer chair and heading back out onto the subway platform.

“Where’re you going now?” Shaw asked as Root headed back towards the exit. “Also, you know, you’re supposed to be hiding still.”

“No time for that,” Root said, tightly. “And She needs me downtown. I think I’m supposed to find someone.”

“Someone from Samaritan?” Reese asked.

“Don’t know,” Root said. “Guess I’ll find out.”

“Need backup?” Shaw asked.

“She says I shouldn’t bring anyone with me.”

Shaw thought about sneaking after Root anyway, but decided against it. If she wanted Root to start calling for backup when she really needed it then that might discourage her.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Root said. “Until then, keep your eyes open.”

“What exactly are we supposed to be keeping our eyes open for?” Reese asked after Root had left.

Shaw wandered back towards the monitors.

“Dunno, but I have a feeling we’ll know it when it happens.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know what you said to Lambert but Samaritan must not have liked it,” Shaw said when Root returned to the subway.

“Samaritan wanted a talk with the Machine,” Root said, wearily. “She wasn’t interested.”

Lambert hadn’t even been armed. He’d been so damn sure she wouldn’t hurt him, which had made her want to hurt him even more. The Machine had been very firm about that, though.

“We’ve got four numbers in the last ten minutes.” Reese was pulling guns out of his weapon locker and. “Maybe it could _get_ interested in talking to Samaritan so we don’t wind up with a city full of corpses.”

“Not my call to make.” Root walked over to the main console to look at the numbers on the screen. “If She’s not talking to it, then She has good reason.”

Shaw was busy pulling up data on her phone and didn’t seem to care one way or the other about what the Machine chose to do.

“Okay, I’ve got these two. Reese, you get the other two?”

“We gonna be able to get to both of them in time?” Reese asked doubtfully.

“Gotta try. Fusco available?”

Reese shook his head.

“Whole NYPD is overtasked now. Samaritan opened the floodgates. We’ve got homicides, muggings, domestic violence, you name it.”

“I’ll take one,” Root offered.

Shaw raised an eyebrow at her.

“You don’t generally work the numbers, Root. What gives?”

“All of this--” Root motioned at the crime reports on the monitors. “--is Samaritan attacking Her. I need to try and help Her fight back.”

“Okay, here you go then.”

Shaw handed her a piece of paper with a social security number on it.

The Machine must have been really frantic because She gave Root the information She needed rather than waiting for her to look it up.

“Okay, I’m on it,” she said, turning to go.

Shaw grabbed her arm.

“Just because we’re backed up on numbers, nothing’s changed. You get in over your head, you damn well better call for backup.”

Root managed to dredge up a smile and loosely grasp Shaw’s upper arm in her hand.

“You don’t have to worry, Sameen. I’ll be fine.”

Shaw scowled at her, flicking her eyes down to Root’s hand and away.

“I’m not worried. Just making sure you keep your promise.”

Root stroked her arm once with her thumb and released her.

“I’ve made lots of promises in my lifetime. You’re the only person I’ve felt compelled to keep one for.” She did not include people she’d promised she’d kill and had then felt compelled to kill because somehow that would have ruined the moment.

Shaw had that uncomfortable look she sometimes got when Root was being a little too sentimental for her, so Root only flashed her a parting smile and hurried away to deal with her number.

 

* * *

 

It was full dark by the time Root entered the little park the Machine had directed her towards. Her number, some kid named Dennis Cohen, was supposed to be somewhere in this area according to his GPS.

The Machine had informed her that Dennis, a fairly unremarkable twenty year old from Queens, had testified against a gang member he’d seen shoot someone in a drive by and was now in witness protection. Someone involved with the trial had slipped Dennis’s name to the gang and they were looking for some payback.

The park was mostly empty, only a couple of late joggers and dog-walkers moving through. She didn’t see any sign of either her number or anyone who looked like they might have gang affiliations.

“You’re sure this is the right spot?” she asked the Machine.

There was a moment of silence and then the Machine gave her a new set of coordinates, three blocks away.

Root bit her lip and hurried off in the right direction without comment. This was the third time the Machine had changed locations on her. Samaritan had to be interfering. The fact it could fool the Machine this much was worrying to say the least.

“Any luck with that number, Root?”

Shaw had managed to find the worst possible time to check in.

“Working on it,” she said a little more briskly than she’d meant to. The Machine’s inability to keep up with Samaritan was putting her on edge.

She was now almost on top of the coordinates the Machine had given her but she still didn’t see anyone who looked like Dennis.

“Reese already lost one, and my guy barely got out in time,” Shaw said, either not noticing or not caring about her bad mood. “It’s almost like Samaritan is fucking with things so we can’t get to them fast enough.”

Root was about to respond when she spotted her number.

Dennis Cohen was coming out of a Starbucks at the end of the block, laughing about something with another boy around his age. The surge of relief she felt at finding him alive was short-lived. There was a car parked on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop and she could see one of the windows rolling down as if it were happening in slow motion.

She was still half a block away, way too far to make it in time.

“Dennis! Run!” she yelled, her hands going for her guns.

She saw the boy twist around towards her voice, completely oblivious to the danger.

She was at an all-out run now, trying to shove by people so she could get a shot at the car, maybe distract the people inside. There was a loud bang that made everyone on the street jump and turn, and then Dennis Cohen collapsed onto the sidewalk, the car with the shooter screeching away into traffic.

She shoved her guns away, self-preservation instincts kicking in, and pushed through the remaining crowd to drop to her knees next to the boy. In her ear the Machine was telling her She’d called an ambulance and it was on its way.

Dennis was bleeding heavily from a bullet wound in his upper left chest area. His friend who’d followed him out of Starbucks was screaming and screaming and Root just tuned it out, unable or unwilling to process the noise. She wasn’t quite sure what she was doing anymore or why.

Pressure. She had to apply pressure to the wound.

She pulled her jacket off, a black linen thing she’d been wearing because of the hot weather, and folded it up, pressing on the area that appeared to be bleeding the most. She could hear voices and see people moving all around her, but none of it really registered. The Machine was saying something but it wasn’t anything useful. She wasn’t telling her what to do.

The only thing she could focus on was the slight rise and fall of Dennis’s chest, the only proof he wasn’t dead. It was weird what her mind was registering now. She could see every detail of the design on his shirt, every curve and line, but the image itself made no sense to her.

The Machine was playing music now, sad and low, and Root felt fury grip her.

Why wasn’t She telling Root what to do? The Machine always knew what to do. She’d stepped in and had been actively helping Root find Dennis so how had he ended up like this? The fury had spiraled down into something much darker now, something between rage and despair.

When Dennis stopped breathing twenty seconds later all the sound and movement came rushing back in an overwhelming roar and she stumbled back, clambering to her feet and brushing off people trying to help her.

The Machine was insisting that she needed to leave the area immediately and she didn’t think she could argue even if she’d wanted to.

She walked away slowly, the ambulance sirens wailing in the distance.

 

* * *

 

“Haven’t gotten a new number in the last hour,” Shaw told Reese over the comm. “Maybe Samaritan decided to call it a night.”

She was back in the subway after rescuing her last number. She’d been hoping Root would be here, too, after their last conversation had gotten cut off.

“We’ve still got plenty to deal with as it is,” Reese responded, voice hollow. “Few people in witness protection we haven’t secured yet for starters.”

“You and Fusco need any help?” Shaw asked. If the world was falling apart then she needed to be out there doing something.

“There’ll be cops crawling all over the stuff we’re looking at,” Reese said. “Probably not a good idea.”

“I can be sneaky,” Shaw argued.

A noise from the subway entrance caught her ear and she looked up to see Root walking in with a strange expression on her face. Something about her made Shaw uneasy.

“I’ll call you back,” she told Reese, and killed the line.

“What happened with your number?” Shaw asked as she got up.

Root had stopped walking near the bottom of the stairs and was standing still, staring at the ground. As Shaw got closer she noticed the blood. Both of Root’s hands were covered in it, and there were smears of it on her face like she’d forgotten she was covered in it and had tried to brush her hair back.

“You hurt?” Shaw asked, coming over to grab her arms above the blood and examine them.

“No, it’s not my blood,” Root said tonelessly.

“Number didn’t make it then?” Shaw asked.

“No. He didn’t.” Root’s voice was flat and empty.

Shaw frowned, unsure of exactly what was going on. She’d never seen Root rattled over someone dying, hell, Root hated most people. Why would Root have given a fuck about some random person she’d never even met?

“Are you, uh, upset about that?” she asked, cautiously. She had a feeling that wasn’t the most tactful way of asking, but oh well.

“No,” Root said in the same flat tone. “I’m really not. I don’t care about Dennis Cohen bleeding out all over the sidewalk, or about the woman Reese couldn’t save earlier, or all the others who died today.”

Shaw tried to think of a good way to ask ‘so why are you acting like this?’ but came up empty.

“Go wash your hands off,” was all she said.

Root went to the small bathroom in the back of the subway, moving almost mechanically. Shaw watched until she disappeared inside and then headed back into the subway car. She sat down on one of the benches instead of the chair and looked up at the monitors showing muted news footage.

“Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked the silent screens.

A few seconds ticked by with no sign of any kind of response.

“Didn’t think so,” Shaw muttered.

She half-turned when she heard Root coming back from the bathroom, ready to go after her if she tried to leave, but Root came into the subway car on her own. She looked around vacantly and then sat down on the floor next to Shaw’s legs, almost touching. She folded her legs up to her chest and looped her arms around them.

“So if you’re not upset about your number dying then why the catatonic act?” Shaw asked. Tact had never been her thing anyway.

She didn't completely buy that Root wasn't upset. She knew Root mostly despised people even if she had decided to team up with the Machine to save them. Root had no problem with hurting people, killing them; she probably enjoyed it on some level. But there was a difference between killing someone and having someone she was trying to save die. Root hadn't gotten covered in a dying boy's blood by accident.

It took Root a couple minutes to get around to answering, but Shaw had never minded some silence.

“She couldn’t do anything,” Root said, finally. Her voice sounded very small.

“The Machine?”

Root nodded, her hair falling forward around her face. Shaw reached down and brushed it back behind Root’s ear on the side closer to her. Root leaned into her touch, like a cat asking to be petted, and Shaw left her hand there, the backs of her fingers touching Root’s cheek lightly.

“She’s a god, Shaw, and She couldn’t do anything for any of them. She was fighting Samaritan with everything She had and it wasn’t enough.”

“Samaritan’s always been stronger,” Shaw reasoned. “It’s why we’ve had to be so careful, right?”

“I know.” A little strength re-entered Root’s voice. “I know that. I’ve always known that. But I thought She could fight back more, if it mattered. That if everything went horribly wrong She’d be able to put up a good fight. But She couldn’t do anything.”

Shaw wasn’t sure what to say to that so she stayed silent, letting her fingers brush against Root’s cheek softly, hoping that the gesture meant something to her.

“How is She supposed to fight Samaritan if She can’t even save the life of one kid?” Root asked.

“I thought that’s what all the fancy code you’ve been working on was for.”

Root drew in a long breath and let it out slowly.

“It is. But it still requires Her to be able to fight it. If Samaritan kills Her right away then it won’t matter how good the code is.”

“Is there some way to make her stronger?” Shaw asked. “Find a server farm for her or something? I’m sure there’s some place out in the midwest we could stage a hostile takeover of.”

“I’d need to change Her core code to do anything that would make a difference,” Root said, sounding defeated. “And She won’t let me.” She laughed, bitterly. “She even trusts me enough to be sure I won’t do it on my own.”

“You giving up?” Shaw rapped her knuckles lightly against the side of Root’s face. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I haven’t,” Root said. “I...I have faith in Her. If She has a plan then I have faith it’ll work. But…”

“But?” Shaw prompted her after a few seconds of silence.

“I’m not sure there’s any plan to take down Samaritan that She could survive. Even if I changed Her core code. After today, it’s....I don’t see how.”

“Ah.”

If Root or Reese decided to run off and sacrifice themselves for the mission, Shaw could smack them over the head and drag them back to safety for their own good. She couldn’t really do that with an Artificial Intelligence.

She gave an exasperated little sigh and slid down onto the floor next to Root who more or less slumped sideways onto her. Shaw awkwardly patted her on the back, deciding that the day they’d all had warranted a bit of physical reassurances.

“We haven’t gotten any new numbers in over an hour,” Shaw said after several minutes of quiet. Her arm was going asleep where Root was leaning against it. “Maybe we should go catch a few hours of shut-eye before whatever comes ne…”

“Too late,” Root said, straightening up.

“Too late?”

Root pulled herself to her feet.

“I hear you,” she said. “We’ll be there.”

Shaw stood up as well, rubbing life back into her arm.

“Root?” she asked.

“The Machine’s made up Her mind.” Root sounded like she was back to business now, though there was an undertone of resignation that Shaw didn’t care for.

“About what? Changing her code?”

Root shook her head.

“She’s going to agree to the meeting. She’s going to talk to Samaritan.”

 

* * *

 

Root walked slowly down the steps of the school building, eyes fixed on the ground, and mind racing.

She had seen the car Shaw had driven them there in pulled up at the sidewalk in front of the New Rochelle elementary school that Samaritan had chosen for the meeting, had seen Shaw standing next to it waiting for her, but she didn’t let herself look up. She needed to think through everything that had been said by Samaritan and the Machine, figure out what was going to happen now.

The Machine had fallen silent after Samaritan’s child avatar, Gabriel, had left and hadn’t answered when Root had asked Her what to do next.

She didn’t think anything had changed, not really, but it felt like something should have. She’d known that Samaritan was real, that it was out there, and the child she’d just seen wasn’t even really Samaritan, only a mouthpiece for it, not of any real importance, and yet hearing Samaritan’s words come out of a human mouth had made the whole thing real in a very different way.

“Hey, Charlie Brown, pick your head up before you walk into traffic.”

Root stopped at the sound of Shaw’s voice and looked up. She’d made it down the front walk of the school and was almost about to step into the street. Shaw was standing next to their car a few feet away, her eyes sweeping over the whole area, ready for trouble. It was probably bugging her that they were so exposed out here.

“Can we go now?” Shaw asked, motioning at the car. “Before Samaritan agents show up and kill us?”

“Of course.”

Root got into the car on the passenger’s side and looked out the window at the school. It looked so normal, so quiet, and yet it was probably the most disturbing place Samaritan could have chosen to appear.

“You know,” Shaw said as she climbed into the driver’s seat. “Usually I’m the quiet one. Not that I’m complaining.”

Root didn’t answer until they were back on the road, headed south to the city.

“Do you know why Samaritan chose a school?” she asked, watching the trees whip by outside.

“Camouflage for the kid? I don’t know. I thought it was supposed to be neutral territory.”

“It wasn’t neutral territory, Shaw. It invited us into its court and paraded its puppet king around in front of us.”

She realized she’d clenched her hands into fists in her lap and forced herself to relax her fingers. She wished she had her laptop here, her code. Code was the simplest and the most complex thing at the same time, it was an entire world unto itself. A better world than this one.

“So that kid I heard is the head of Samaritan now?” Shaw asked doubtfully.

When Root had gotten the address the meeting was to take place at, Shaw had insisted that she was coming with her. The Machine had been quite adamant that this meeting was only for Her and Samaritan, but Shaw had sat in front of the subway exit with one of Root’s tasers in hand until she’d agreed to let her drive her here.

Shaw had begrudgingly agreed to wait outside, but had insisted that Root leave a channel open to her so she could hear, and that Root take a weapon. Of course Root had stashed the handgun on the first floor of the school, at the Machine’s insistence, and only retrieved it on her way out, but Shaw didn’t need to know that. Root had been fairly confident that the Machine was correct in Her assumption that this was a private meeting and not one where she’d be in physical danger.

“That kid means nothing to Samaritan. I could have snapped his neck and it would have replaced him within seconds.”

“Sounded like a smug, spoiled, little shit, so it wouldn't have been a big loss.”

“Fitting, don’t you think?” Root asked. “It choosing a precocious, spoiled child to speak for it?”

Shaw snorted. “If that was really Samaritan speaking through the kid, then yeah. Sounded like an egomaniacal brat. Why the school though?”

They stopped at a traffic light and Root watched a family crossing the street, pushing a baby-carriage in front of them

“It was telling us it had already won,” she said. “It took us into a place designed to teach children, to raise the future generations of the world, and said ‘look, I’m already here’. It wanted to show us that it owns the future.”

“It’s going to take over schools?” There was an edge of anger in Shaw’s voice.

“It doesn’t have to. Samaritan can control everything digital. Every year the human race relies more and more heavily on technology, and now there’s a ghost in the machine. Every phone, computer, tablet that every child comes into contact with is something Samaritan has potential access to. And it’s only going to get stronger, spread further. Samaritan doesn’t need us dead. All it needs is time. And it has all the time in the world.”

She heard Shaw shifting in her seat and turned away from the window to look at her. She had her normal flat expression on, but her body was tense, like an over-stretched spring.

“Well, too bad we’re going to fucking fry it out of the internet,” Shaw said with grim satisfaction.

Root nodded to herself. They’d already been at war with Samaritan, but it had rarely been direct. She thought that might have just changed.

“Any new numbers?” Shaw asked a few minutes later.

“No, things are still quiet.” Root wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe there actually weren’t any new numbers popping up, and maybe it was related to Samaritan. Everything felt slightly off.

“Good. Could both use a few hours of sleep.”

The Machine came alive in Root’s ear, spinning out news and instructions so fast that she had a hard time registering any of it. She got the gist of it, though.

She pulled her phone out and started pulling up news sites, filling in the details for herself.

“What?” Shaw asked, glancing over at her. “Samaritan do something?”

“You could say that.”

The stories on the news sites were still largely speculation, on-going coverage, but between them and the Machine’s increasingly disturbing updates it was pretty apparent what was happening.

“Samaritan is crashing the stock market.”

“Oh,” Shaw said. She was silent for a minute or two, probably thinking the implications through. “Well, fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure everyone knows where this is headed next chapter. So, about that. I know there's general worry about what's gonna happen in the stock exchange but it's very hard for me to say anything at all about it without spoiling it. So here's what I'm gonna do. Next chapter in the END notes there will be a very brief summary of what happens in the chapter. Anyone who is worried and wants to be spoiled ahead of time can read the note first. I'll mention this again in the beginning note of next chapter. Hopefully that works for everyone.
> 
> Unfortunately I haven't even started writing the next chapter yet (though I know exactly how it's going to go) and the chances of me having it done by Sunday are pretty low. This is also one of those chapters I want to make sure I get right. So I'll aim for next Thursday and that next Sunday at the latest.
> 
> I always lowkey want to write more Lambert and Martine being the dysfunctional Samaritan version of the Mayhem twins, but agh, there's already a ton of characters and I've been neglecting Zoe (she'll be back soon!) already.
> 
>  
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [Welcome Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/29296386) rated E.


	24. Else If

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much to no one's surprise this chapter is an alternate version of If-Then-Else. Like I mentioned in the end notes of the last chapter if you're worried about the outcome of this chapter and want a spoiler please jump directly to the end note before reading where I'll include a very brief summary.

 

Shaw checked the number on the building before shoving through the large glass doors into the lobby.

“Alright, Root, I’m here. Now what?”

She hadn’t been crazy about going off to help a number while Root got ahold of whatever this countermeasure was the Machine had made to keep Samaritan from tanking the stock market, but at least she was out doing things instead of sitting on her hands.

“She says your number is on the tenth floor. Some dishonest broker who’s regretting his actions a little too late. Not really sure why She thinks he’s worth saving, but She’s the boss,” Root replied over the comlink.

The lobby was full of frantic people milling about, all glued to their cellphones. Shaw shoved her way over to the elevators, ignoring the pandemonium surrounding her. Wading through rich assholes who were mid-nervous-breakdown was the last way she’d seen this day going. Then again, this day had been going since yesterday without even a break to sleep so at this point it could all be a bad hallucination.

“You find this thing you’re after yet?” she asked as she waited for the elevator.

She could have taken the stairs, but there were a lot of people in and around the stairwell entrance so she’d decided to skip that option.

“Picked it up a few minutes ago,” Root responded. “Looks like She really thought of everything. Or, almost everything. I’m still not sure what we’re supposed to do once we’re inside the stock exchange.”

The elevator doors opened in front of Shaw, but she only stuck her arm in to keep the doors from shutting again, ignoring the agitated people who were waiting.

“Wait, you’re headed back already?”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m on my way. This broker dude can save his own ass. World economy is more important than one corrupt dude in an over-priced suit.”

“Ma’am?”

Someone on the elevator was motioning for her to lower her arm so the elevator doors could shut. She glared them into silence.

“Sameen. Reese and Fusco are already here. We can handle things until you catch up with us.”

“Why am I the only one missing out on the fun?” Shaw grumbled. “Ugh, fine. But you’d better save some of the fun for me.”

She slid into the elevator and hit the button for the tenth floor, pretending not to hear the person in the back of the elevator muttering ‘Finally’.

“I’ll tell the boys to restrain themselves,” Root promised.

She sounded agitated still, Shaw thought. Maybe Root was still worried about the Machine not being able to fight Samaritan, or could it be related to whatever was about to go down? Trying to pick through Root’s emotions was a nightmare.

Either way, the sooner they sorted this all out, the better.

Apparently, though, the world had decided that nothing was going to be simple for her today because Root contacted her again as she got off the elevator.

“Hey, sweetie, I need a favor.”

Shaw held back a groan. Had Root changed her mind already?

“Still not done with this number, Root.”

“Well, you’re going to have to save him fast. Lock him in a closet or something.”

“I can inflict some not-too-permanent damage to keep him occupied, but what’s this favor? Thought you said you and the boys could take care of things until I caught up?” She smirked. “Already stuck?”

“Not exactly. The Machine informed me we’re going to need a pass code to get through a door without setting off every alarm in the building. The man who has the pass code is going to be on a subway near you in, oh, twenty minutes. Better hurry.”

“Can’t John do this?” Getting stuck running errands really wasn’t enticing.

“He’s doing something else for me. You’re the only one close enough. If it makes you feel any better, the success of the mission might hinge on it.”

Shaw didn’t hold back her groan this time.

“No, that doesn’t make me feel any better. I knew I shouldn’t have let you wander off without me. Now I get saddled with this shit.”

“Tick, tock, Sameen.”

“I hope you get arrested.”

 

* * *

 

“What’re we doin’ here again?” Fusco asked as Reese fiddled with the last camera cable.

“Saving the world economy?” Reese said, though it came out as more of a question. “I think?”

He’d only gotten pieces of the story from Root and Shaw over comlink and put together the rest by himself from checking the news.

“How’re we supposed to do that?”

Fusco turned away from watching the hall to peer at the wires Reese had been fumbling with.

“Root says the Machine has a way to, uh, stabilize the market in real time?” That sounded right anyway.

“Oh, fancy computer nerd stuff,” Fusco said, nodding as if it all made sense. “Well, did either princess processor or her robot fairy godmother figure out how we’re going to explain our presence if we get caught? Badges will only get us so far.”

“I’m sure one of them has a plan,” Reese said. He thought back on some of the previous plans the Machine and Root had landed him in. “Maybe we should come up with a story just in case.”

“Oh right, we got lost looking for the bathroom,” Fusco said, sarcastically. “Who’s gonna buy that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t.”

Both men swung around to confront the source of the new voice. Reese’s gun was out before he’d consciously decided to draw it.

“What’re you doing here?” Reese asked, not lowering his weapon even after he identified the new-comer.

“You know this guy?” Fusco asked, hand resting on his own gun.

There was no one else in the hall besides the three of them, but they were off of a crowded area and probably shouldn’t be waving guns around. Reese still didn’t put his down, though.

“Yeah. Fusco, meet Hersh. He’s a government assassin who keeps trying to kill us.”

Hersh scowled.

“I seem to recall I helped you out during the blackout. _And_ I saved the scary one you hang out with.”

“He saved Shaw?” Fusco asked, disbelieving.

“No, the other scary one,” Hersh clarified.

“Ohhh, her.” Fusco nodded, sagely.

Reese’s mouth twitched slightly, fighting back a smile, and he lowered his gun a bit. The fact Hersh found someone scary was impressive. But then Root had taken him down solo at one point. Though to be fair so had Shaw, in a very different way.

“Why’re you here, Hersh?”

Hersh kept his eye on Reese’s gun.

“The Machine sent me to New York yesterday and then the stock market crashed. I came down here looking for trouble and I found the two of you cutting camera feeds. Want to fill me in?”

“Samaritan is crashing the stock market,” Reese said, eyeing Hersh up and down. “We’re here to stop it.”

Hersh’s eyebrows shot up.

“Samaritan is doing that? Why?”

Reese shrugged. “I don’t even know why the supposedly-benevolent AI I work for does things. Samaritan is a total mystery.”

Hersh mulled this over for a few seconds.

“Okay, so how’re you going to stop it?”

“The scary one has a plan,” Fusco filled in. “Or maybe it’s the Machine’s plan. It’s hard to tell with those two.”

“And where _is_ Root?”

Root chose that moment to open her comlink to Reese.

“Hey, John, I finished up in the central command center just now. The Machine will have access to the internal camera feeds in a few minutes. You boys at the elevator yet?”

“Not quite yet,” Reese said, still eyeing Hersh. Could he trust him? What if Samaritan had actually sent him as some sort of triple-double-agent?

“Well, get a move on, or I’m leaving you behind.” Root cut the line.

Reese sighed and finally put his weapon away. He could second-guess his instincts until doomsday, but then....actually it might already be doomsday, so why bother?

“We’re on our way to meet up with Root and fix this mess. You in?”

Hersh looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Guess I am. Hope this plan doesn’t get us all killed.”

“Yeah,” Reese agreed as he led the way down the hall to meet up with Root. “Me, too.”

 

* * *

 

Root restrained herself from taking the elevator down before Reese and Fusco arrived. She knew that time was of the essence here, but, as Shaw kept reminding her, she couldn’t save anyone if she was dead.

The Machine was being strangely quiet about everything, only filling her in about immediate necessary actions and precautions. She’d hoped that due to the urgency and scale of the current threat that the Machine would talk with her more like She used to, with all the background music painting a world around her and making her feel connected, secure. But if anything She’d cut back even further on communication since Root had entered the stock exchange.

The Machine did inform her that the others were almost there.

“Three of them?” Root asked. Had Shaw somehow gotten here already? That was physically impossible.

She held back an amused smile when she saw who the third person was.

“Clever,” she told the Machine softly.

She never stopped amazing Root.

She exchanged an only-mildly-suspicious nod with Hersh before turning to Reese.

“Shaw’s finding us the code to get us into the server room,” she said. “So we’re not waiting on anyone else.”

Reese nodded. “What’s the plan once we get down there?”

“As soon as She gets the camera feed data sorted out She’ll get us to the server room. We use the code from Shaw to get in and deploy this---” She patted the briefcase she was holding. “--to stop Samaritan. Then we get out as fast as we can.”

“Building is probably crawling with Samaritan agents,” Hersh pointed out.

Root got on the elevator and motioned the others to follow her.

“Probably. But hopefully they aren’t expecting us.”

When they reached the bottom floor and climbed off the elevator her hopes on that front were shattered.

The Machine must have gotten the camera feeds working because She was suddenly relaying information quickly, in a way Root thought of as agitated.

“It’s a trap,” Root said, fear twisting inside of her. If Samaritan was expecting them then every single agent they could spare was probably somewhere in this basement. They must have gone to enormous lengths to smuggle in that many people without the Machine noticing.

“What’s a trap?” Fusco asked.

“Figures,” Hersh said at the same time.

Reese looked resigned but didn’t comment.

“Samaritan knows we’re here,” Root explained, leading the way down the hall as quickly as she could. “They’ve got teams here ready for us.”

“Glad I brought extra ammo,” Hersh said, almost cheerfully.

Root froze halfway down the hall, the Machine frantic in her ear.

“Run!”

She turned around and shoved at Fusco, urging them all down the hall as gunfire rang out behind them.

She hoped Shaw was faring better than they were.

 

* * *

 

Reese had never imagined a scenario where he ended up crouched behind a counter, taking cover from enemy bullets, with...Hersh. He glanced over at the other man, trying to sort out everything that was happening.

It made sense that the Machine would send Hersh to help them, he supposed. But how had it known that they’d need help? This was supposed to have been a much less exciting mission, getting in and out with only the minimum amount of agents encountered. And if it had known that a trap was likely, why hadn’t it told Root? Or had it and Root hadn’t told them?

There were too many unknowns here and not enough time to think them through.

“What’s our move, Root?” he asked over the sound of gunfire.

“She’s working on it.”

Root looked as tired as he felt. None of them had slept in over a day now and with no end in sight it was starting to drag at them. Annoyingly, Hersh didn’t look tired, though with him Reese could never be sure exactly what he _did_ look.

“Well, tell it to hurry up. We’re sitting ducks here.”

“Got it,” Root said, nodding to herself.

She glanced over all of them, as if assessing their chances.

“On my signal we’re all going out and turning left to go to the server room. Then we’ll secure the escape route together.”

“Shouldn’t we split up, get both done at once?” Hersh asked, skeptically.

“She says it’s the only way.”

From the look on Root’s face Reese had a feeling that even if these were the best odds, they were still pretty slim.

 

* * *

 

“You saved us all!” The man who Root had sent Shaw after was staring at her in wide-eyed wonder.

Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, right. I’m a real hero.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm. Anyway it had been Lionel’s shitty advice that had helped her find the right words to say, though she’d largely been improvising. She hoped the Machine hadn’t known what she’d have to do because boy had she chosen the wrong team member for empathizing with a suicide bomber.

On the other hand, the last time Reese had saved a suicidal man, he’d done it by shooting him and she couldn’t imagine Root even bothering to try.

“If you’re really so grateful, then I’m gonna need a favor,” she told the security engineer.

“A favor?” He looked troubled. “After today I’m not sure there’s anything I can do for anyone. This whole market collapse is going to leave me ruined. My pension is gone for sure, and I won’t be surprised if I get laid off within the year.”

“Lucky for you this doesn’t involve money. _And_ it could save your pension if it pans out.”

She glanced down the subway platform past him to see the cops still milling around. She was lucky she hadn’t been caught in the group they pulled for questioning. The last thing she needed right now was more delays.

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” the security engineer was saying. “I don’t have anything that could help with that.”

“You have a code to override a biometric palm scanner to a server room in the basement of the stock exchange.”

She saw realization sink in on his face.

“I can’t…”

Shaw sighed and pulled her gun out of her pocket.

“Listen, I don’t have time to fuck around. We need the code to stop the market crash. Either give it to me freely or I’ll shoot you and find someone else who knows it.”

It was a bluff; they didn’t have time to find someone else. But bluffs tended to work when you had a gun pointed at someone who wasn’t used to seeing them.

“The police are…”

“Far enough away that they can’t help you in time. Now do you want to save your stupid pension or not?”

Root owed her big time for this. Next time Reese could run the lame errands.

“Hey, honey, you get our code?” Root with her uncanny timing again.

Shaw looked over the man she’d saved. She could see the resistance leaving his face.

“Our friend here is very eager to save his pension,” she told Root. “I’m gonna let him give you the code.”

She bolted out of the subway as soon as Reese confirmed the door had opened. There was no way in hell she was missing the rest of the party.

 

* * *

 

“That felt too easy,” Reese said as they headed away from the server room.

“Why’d you have to go and say that?” Fusco grumbled. “Now everything's going to go wrong.”

Root tried to tune them out, listening to the Machine’s updates. She wouldn’t tell Root their odds for making it out alive, which was not a good sign. Samaritan was probably lying in wait at every available exit, and even with Hersh there she doubted their chances of getting through an entire army of Samaritan agents were good.

“Everyone knows you’re not supposed to say things like that,” Hersh chimed in, staring at Reese as if he were an idiot.

Root snorted softly. At least the boys were enjoying what might be their last stand.

She was secretly glad Shaw wasn’t with them. Maybe she’d stand a chance if she stayed out of the stock exchange. The Machine could take care of her until she built a new team.

Hersh moved away from Reese and Fusco to walk next to her.

“What’re our chances really like?” he asked quietly.

Root made a face and he nodded, understanding.

“We fixed the market, though, right?”

“She says everything is stabilizing,” Root confirmed. “Samaritan doesn’t appear to be fighting back, either. I wonder if the whole point was to trap us.”

“Maybe a power play as well,” Hersh added.

“Possibly. Or it was trying to draw out the Machine.”

“If you die down here, will your Machine still help the ISA?” Hersh asked.

“Honestly, I’m hurt that my personal well-being means so little to our government,” Root said with a mocking smile.

Hersh just looked at her blankly. She’d forgotten how humor tended to bounce off of him.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she reassured him. “The Machine’s purpose is larger than any one of us.”

“Good to hear.”

They were getting near the elevator now and she led them into a side hall at the Machine’s insistence.

“Anyone know anything about generators?” she asked, pulling a cloth off the antiquated backup generator that the Machine told her they needed to restore power to the elevator.

“I could probably rig it to explode,” Hersh offered.

Reese shook his head.

“More Finch’s thing than mine.”

Fusco only shrugged helplessly.

Root sighed and shut her eyes for a second. The Machine was going to have to walk her through it, which was not ideal with Samaritan on their heels.

She walked past the generator to the glass case on the wall where a fire axe was housed and smashed the door on it. She pulled the axe out, weighing it in her hands, and turned back around. All three men were trying to inconspicuously back away. She grinned at them and they all backed up even further.

As much as she wanted Shaw safe, she was sad that she was missing this.

“Hersh, Fusco, I need you to go down that hall and cut the cable that controls the elevator’s lock. It’s a coiled cable behind the wall. Once you find it wait for my signal before cutting it.”

She handed Fusco the axe; Hersh might be helping them but she still wasn’t about to hand him another weapon.

“What fun task do I get to do?” Reese asked when the other two left.

Root fished around behind the generator and found the flashlight the Machine had told her would be there. She handed it over.

“Make sure I can see what I’m doing.”

Normally Root would have been eager for the Machine to teach her a new thing, especially something exciting like this with lots of little interlocking parts to fidget with, but not now. She wanted the wretched thing to work so they could get out of this horrible basement. She was exhausted beyond what she’d ever felt before and simply wanted to go back to Shaw’s apartment and pass out with her.

“What’re our odds?” Reese asked as she poked and pried at the generator.

“Probably higher than the odds of me spontaneously kissing Fusco. Only slightly, though.”

Reese didn’t even crack a grin.

“Wish we hadn’t brought Fusco down here,” he said. “He has a kid.”

Root nodded, trying to stay focused.

“Shaw on her way?” Reese asked.

“The elevator isn’t going to move unless I finish this and every other way in is guarded,” Root said instead of answering.

“She’ll be pretty pissed if she’s stuck up there with all of us dying down here.”

“She’ll be alive.”

“Hope they have an army of guards up there, then.” He took a deep breath. “You could hide, probably. We could draw them off. They don't know for sure how many of us there are.”

She could tell by his tone that he knew the offer was in vain. But he wouldn't be Reese if he hadn't offered.

She smiled at him over her shoulder, her eyes holding the answer he'd expected. He nodded, already resigned.

She stepped back.

“I think it’s done.”

She flipped a switch and the generator roared to life. She felt a tiny spark of pride, but it vanished quickly.

“Samaritan agents are on the way,” she said as the Machine listed off locations and numbers. “We need to move. Now.”

She activated her comm.

“Fusco, cut the cable now and get back here fast.”

The seconds seemed to drag by as they waited, neither of them looking at the other. The Machine finally gave her an update on their current odds, and even though she’d suspected them to be low it still left a sour taste in her mouth.

When Fusco and Hersh came into sight Root took off towards the hall to the elevator without waiting for them to fully catch up. She heard Reese on her heels. They had under a minute to get to the elevator before Samaritan cut them off completely.

The room with the elevator was in sight now and Root was fighting down an irrational surge of hope that somehow they’d beaten the Samaritan teams. Something had to go wrong soon. Was the elevator rigged to blow or something? The odds didn’t make sense unless there was something still standing in their way.

It was almost a relief when the Machine warned her about the ambush waiting ahead.

“Watch out!” she yelled, jumping back a second before leaving the hall to enter the room the elevator was in.

From the left side of the elevator room, a hallway perpendicular to their own, a burst of gunfire exploded, showering the room in bits of flying concrete. The Machine was telling her there were at least ten Samaritan agents there and more on their way.

Definitely too many to risk going out there without any sort of cover. They’d get shot to pieces even if they took some of them down with them.

“Well, now what?” Fusco asked.

Root gritted her teeth as she took another shot around the corner, not even sure if she was hitting anything.

In her ear the Machine was silent.

 

* * *

 

Shaw kicked the cover over the end of the air duct off and peered out. She’d come out near the ceiling of a large, mostly uninhabited room full of computer workstations. Three people were staring up at her, alarmed.

She wriggled forward, grabbed the edge of the duct opening and dropped down, using her arm strength and a foot on the wall to slow her drop before she released the edge completely and landed lightly on the ground.

When she straightened up, the three people, two women and a man, were still staring at her, though one of the women glanced at the door behind them.

“Just thought I’d drop in,” Shaw told them, circling around them towards the door. “No need to worry. I’ll be out of here soon.”

She hoped she would, anyway.

She flashed a lazy salute at the nervous employees as she ducked out.

The hallway outside was clear but she could hear noise in the distance that she recognized as gunfire. The way the sound echoed around the halls made it hard to tell exactly what direction it was coming from.

She pulled her phone out and checked it before setting off in what she hoped was the right direction. She was glad she’d prepared for finding them on her own.

“Hey, sweetie…” It was Root’s voice over her comlink and Shaw had heard that tone before.

“Don’t even start with another melodramatic, tearful farewell, Root. I’m busy right now.” She allowed herself a small smile at how much her response would annoy Root.

“Busy?” There was a lot of gunfire in the background of Root’s line, but she was close enough now that she could hear it pretty clearly on her own.

She turned a corner and saw them at the end of a hall.

“Busy saving your asses. Again,” she said, causing the others to turn around and see her. “You guys can’t do anything without me, can you?”

They could have looked worse, she supposed, though all of them were a bit roughed up. Reese was favoring one leg, Fusco had some blood soaked through one of the sleeves of his suit, Root had blood on the side of her shirt that had better not be from a bullet wound, and…. Wait.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” she asked Hersh.

“Washington.”

She held back a retort because she knew that he knew that wasn’t what she meant but this wasn’t the time to get into a fight. Not with bullets flying right around the corner.

Root’s entire face had lit up when she’d turned around and she was beaming at Shaw like she was the best thing she’d ever seen. Which, in these circumstances, might actually be true. Back when Root had first started looking at her like that Shaw had felt weird, exposed, but now she felt warm, like she’d been lying out in the sun or something.

There was no time for contemplating that now, though.

She pulled out the package that had been digging into her rib-cage the whole way here and held it up.

“Present from our friend in the bomb vest,” she said, ducking past the others and taking a peek around the corner. Was that Jeremy fucking Lambert down there? Maybe she could catch him in the blast, make this whole terrible day worth something.

She tossed the explosives in the air and shot them, the resulting blast filling the air with smoke and fire.

“Get moving,” she snapped at the others firing at the figures she could only partly see through the smoke.

She wasn’t surprised when she felt Root press up against her back, leaning around her to help provide cover fire for the others.

“Missed me so much you couldn’t stay away?” Root asked, between gunshots.

“Nah. Knew you losers couldn’t even handle a simple mission without me.”

“We did alright,” Root protested. “We even adopted Hersh like a lost homicidal puppy.”

Shaw chuckled.

“We can’t keep him. Bear would get jealous.”

A glance to the side let her see that the others had made it to the elevator and now were providing cover fire for them. She jerked her head at Root and the two of them hurried across the room to join the others.

“I’m out of ammo,” Root said as they entered the elevator car.

“I’m almost out, too,” Reese added.

Hersh materialized ammo clips from somewhere inside his coat causing Reese to blink in surprise.

“Do you have an entire arsenal under that coat?”

Hersh shrugged but a muscle in his face twitched which might have been his version of looking smug.

“Uh, guys,” Fusco looked up from the elevator buttons. “If we’ve got power then why aren’t we moving?”

Shaw glanced at the elevator button pane and then around the car. Finally she looked back out into the main room and her eyes locked on the red button on the wall across from them.

“Override button,” she said, taking a step forward. Outside there were still bullets flying, Samaritan agents cautiously pressing forward.

“Shaw…” Root’s voice was half-warning, half-plea.

“Reese, Hersh,” Shaw said, ignoring Root. “Gonna need cover fire to reach that.”

She could see Reese eyeing the situation, trying to decide if he should run out instead of her. She wasn’t about to let that happen, though. She was faster than he was, and a smaller target. And she would never ask one of her team to do what she wouldn’t do herself. She caught Reese’s eye and glared him down. He didn’t look happy, but he nodded.

With Reese and Hersh covering for her she gave herself fifty-fifty odds. She’d had much worse, but if she ran out there….

She caught Fusco’s attention, quietly, and slid her eyes sideways to Root and back to him. He nodded, understanding. She’d saved his son once so of course he understood.

“Shaw, if you think I’m going to let you…” Root started, coming towards her.

Shaw just grabbed her by the collar of her stupid leather jacket and hauled her down into a kiss. Really it was the only way to thoroughly shut her up.

It should have been weird, kissing Root in front of the others for the first time (In front of Hersh, for fuck’s sake), but something about being there, in their own safe alcove with bullets flying only inches away felt right. Like this had always been where they’d end up.

Root was stiff, startled at first, and then relaxed into the kiss, but only for a second before she tensed again, clearly sensing something was going on.

Shaw released her, shoved her back, hard, into where Fusco was waiting to grab her.

“Now,” Shaw said to the other two and darted forward.

She’d heard that sometimes people experienced a form of time dilation, where time felt like it slowed down in extreme situations, but she’d never experienced it before. She wondered if it had to do with fear, or panic, but she didn’t feel either of those things right now. And yet it felt like everything was moving in slow motion, like she was underwater.

She saw Jeremy Lambert appear from around a stack of crates to the far right and fired at him as she ran. He went down with her bullet in his side. Not a fatal wound, she suspected, as long as he didn’t bleed out, but he wasn't getting back up on own.

She was more than halfway there when she saw the three Samaritan agents at the mouth of the hallway opening opposite her fall to the ground one after another, one from her bullets, and the others shot by either Hersh or Reese. And she was almost at the wall when she saw Martine appear from behind where the agents had fallen, her gun already firing.

Shaw felt the shot hit her high on her right shoulder, rocking her back half a step. It threw her return shot off, the bullet taking a chunk out of the wall next to Martine. She was only half a step away from reaching the button now, but she could see Martine firing again.

The second bullet hit her in the leg, causing her to drop to one knee with a grunt of pain. She returned the favor by taking out one of Martine’s arms, which was a shame because she’d been aiming for her heart. She reached out with her left arm as far as it could go and slammed down the button on the wall. She saw Martine raising her gun again and pulled the trigger on her own gun as quickly as she could, hitting her in the leg.

Even as Martine collapsed, Shaw was forcing herself up to her feet, somehow ignoring the fact her leg was trying to give out on her, and moving towards the closing elevator gate. More Samaritan agents had appeared in the hall and she thought she felt another bullet hit her in the side, but at this point she couldn’t even tell.

Something grabbed her arm and she was yanked sideways and pulled up and through the closing doors to land basically on top of Reese.

“Thanks,” she managed to say, watching in a bemused fashion as her hand left a trail of blood down his white shirt. When had she gotten blood all over her hand?

The pain hit her all at once, ripping through her arm, leg, and side in sheer agony and she shut her eyes and gritted her teeth. It hurt too much to stay still so she tried to move to relieve the pain, but that only made it worse.

Somewhere, it felt far away, someone had ahold of her, was propping her up against the wall of the elevator. Hands were running over her, almost gently, and there was a voice she thought she recognized though she wasn’t sure what it was saying.

She forced her eyes open.

She didn’t know how to describe the look on Root’s face, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was making sure Root never looked that way again, because it twisted something deep inside of Shaw. It made her feel angry and sick at the same time, furious that something had made Root look that way. She reached up with her arm that was still working to try and touch Root’s face with her hand, but she’d forgotten about the blood and pulled back when she saw it smear across Root’s cheek.

She thought Root said something then, but she couldn’t focus on the words.

“Walked off worse than this the day before I met you,” she managed.

Back then she’d had to take care of herself. Cole had been dead and even if he hadn’t, she’d never relied on someone else to take care of her. Despite what she’d said, she knew this was worse than that day had been. If Root wasn’t holding her up right now she’d have been on the floor.

But somehow it was okay. She’d done what she set out to do and protected them, all of them. Protected the mission. Protected Root. And now she wasn’t worried, because if there was even the sliver of a chance she could pull through this she knew that Root would stop at nothing to see that she did.

She’d kept Root safe and now Root would keep her safe. That’s how it worked.

It was unbelievably simple and she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t figured it out sooner. Hell, she wasn’t even sure _what_ it was she’d figured out but she knew that it was important and she had to tell Root.

“Root…”

“It’s okay, Sameen. You’re going to be okay. We’re getting out of here right now.”

It sounded like Root was trying not to cry, and that was just silly.

“No, Root, you don’t understand…”

But she’d lost whatever it was she’d meant to say.

The elevator jerked to a halt and she felt a change in the air as the door opened. She shoved Root away and tried to walk towards the door because there was no way in hell she was getting carried out of there.

At least that’s what she told herself, but the floor was rushing up to meet her and then something stopped her fall and it sent the most excruciating pain through all her wounds.

Things got a little fuzzier after that.

There was a flash of a ceiling above her, moving by rapidly. Then a burst of air. They were moving, everything spinning slightly, the sound of a car horn. Someone was talking quickly, urgently. Weirdly she thought someone was playing music in her ear, something that sounded both new and old at once. Then more air, more ceiling. She must have passed out then because she was abruptly in a different room that she didn’t recognize. The surface hurt when she was lowered onto it, jarring all the pain back to life.

She felt a sharp pain in her arm and it was like a switch flipped and she could suddenly move again, pushing up and grabbing whoever it was that was hurting her. The movement caused fire to rip through her arm and side, white spots flashing in front of her eyes. She was dimly aware she’d grabbed someone but she couldn’t quite focus on anything.

Something touched the back of her wrist lightly.

“Sameen.”

She didn’t relax her grip, but she didn’t tighten it either.

“Sameen, you need to let the doctor help you.”

There was a hand circling her wrist now, lightly, not pulling. She tried to focus on the hand; long pale fingers, black nail polish. She relaxed, fractionally.

After a second she released her grip and let someone help her lie back down, the motion almost causing her to black out again.

“Doctor better be good,” she managed to get out when she recovered a tiny bit.

“I’ll be watching him _quite_ closely.”

Shaw chuckled at the threat in the words. Hopefully Root didn’t terrify the doctor so much that he fucked up.

Root. Right. Of course she’d known who it was.

“Root.” She said it out loud as confirmation.

“It’s okay, baby,” she heard Root say close to her ear. “Just relax.”

Some part of her mind that was still vaguely coherent wondered why Root only called her baby when she was semi-conscious. She felt cheated.

There were other voices in the background but they were a jumble of nonsense noises to her. She could feel the pull of drugs in her system now, dragging her down towards sleep. She struggled to stay awake, fight off the drugs.

Fingers touched the side of her face and traced up her cheek to brush her hair back.

She let out a sigh and finally let herself relax, fall down into sleep soothed by the feeling of fingers stroking through her hair.

 

* * *

 

When she opened her eyes next everything was blurry, surreal. She was in a bed, she thought. Definitely had a lot of drugs in her system. Couldn’t stay focused.

There was a hazy shape near the end of the bed. Tall, brown hair, undeniably familiar in a way that was much deeper than simple recognition.

Staying awake was impossible for her any longer, but it was okay now.

She knew she’d be safe here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS: Things go fairly similarly to the original episode up until near the end. Shaw still shows up to rescue everyone and still runs out to hit the button, but with more backup from the team she manages to make it back to the elevator, badly hurt, but alive and safe.  
> \-------------------
> 
> I was always annoyed that Finch was in the stock exchange to begin with. He was a civilian and they knew Samaritan would be in the building even if they didn't know how many. Root was the one who brought the laptop from the Machine and the command to execute the code was simple enough that Finch could text it to Fusco in one simulation. The only thing they really needed Finch for was starting the generator, which I sort of cheated by saying the Machine magically helped Root make it work. But the thing is, if Finch hadn't been there, Reese wouldn't have had to take a bullet for him when he couldn't stay in cover. And, as we saw with Shaw's arrival, having one more person in the action can make a huge difference. 
> 
> I didn't want to take away Shaw's big moment, but there was also no way in hell I was letting her get abducted by Samaritan. Also let her shoot up Lambert and Martine because she'd had a rough day. Neither of them is dead either. They'll live to get shot another day.
> 
> I have more than half of the next chapter already written, but between end-of-the-year panic at work and the fact I'm flying across the country on thursday I'm not completely sure when I'll post it. I'll try for Friday maybe? Probably going to be a very unpredictable schedule through the holidays.
> 
> Hope everyone liked it!


	25. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter coming to you from 35000 feet somewhere above...uh, Ohio? Looks like it. Wi-Fi on flights is the best. Hello from the sky. 
> 
> First time I've ever posted from mobile so hopefully the formatting isn't jacked. I'll fix it when I get on my laptop if it is. Definitely want to thank google docs for replacing tabs with spaces...this isn't fucking python, google docs. No one is impressed. Also huge shout out to the dude reading over my shoulder as I edited for the last four hours. You are my #1 fan.
> 
> Please enjoy 7.6k words of Shaw lying in bed. No, really.

 

Shaw woke up slowly, swimming back to the surface of consciousness one sense at a time. The first thing she was aware of was sounds, the faint noises of traffic from somewhere outside that were unmistakably New York and immediately made her feel more grounded.

Next came the pain, impossible to avoid even as dulled as it was. She had hazy memories of how much she’d hurt before she’d been asleep, where her entire body had felt like it was in agony, but now the pain was more distinct. Her right arm, left side, and left leg all were throbbing in a way that let her know she still had pain-killers in her system and that they’d hurt a lot more once the drugs wore off.

She was comfortable, though, as much as that was possible, lying somewhere soft and warm under blankets. There was no way they’d taken her to a hospital (not with Samaritan after them), so where was she?

She slowly opened her eyes a crack, letting them adjust to the brightness. After a few long blinks she started registering her surroundings. She was in a bedroom that looked familiar, but slightly different. The townhouse, she realized. The large bed that normally dominated the room had been shoved all the way to the far wall to make room for the hospital bed she was lying in. Sunlight was streaming in through the curtains on the window.

She turned her head slightly in the other direction. There was a woman sitting in a chair next to her bed, tall, with brown hair, just like she’d expected. Except... it wasn’t the woman she’d expected.

“Zoe?” she asked, annoyed by how her voice cracked coming out of her dry mouth.

Zoe looked up from the book she was reading in surprise, her face transforming into a smile. She put her book down on the floor and leaned closer.

“Shaw. You’re awake. How’re you feeling?”

“Been worse.” She wasn’t completely sure if that was true, but there was no way she was admitting that.

She struggled to sit up, but her limbs still felt a bit heavy and it made everything hurt more. Zoe jumped up to raise the hospital bed up into a sitting position. Shaw immediately felt better not lying flat out on her back. She wasn’t sure she could even get out of bed right now, but sitting up felt less weak, more in control.

“How long have I been out?” she asked, trying to get comfortable in the new position. Someone had put her in one of those fucking hospital gowns which she was not going to tolerate for a second longer than she had to. She’d rather be naked than wear one of those things.

“A little over twelve hours, I think,” Zoe said, settling back into her chair. “The doctor thought it was best you sleep for awhile.”

Shaw nodded, pulling the gown away from her right shoulder enough to see the bandages taped on her upper arm. She wondered how they’d found a doctor as fast as they had and if they’d been any good.

“Samaritan?” she asked.

“Afraid I don’t know much about that,” Zoe said, apologetically. “I don’t think there’s any immediate danger, though.”

“Everyone got out okay?” Where the hell was everyone? She'd been sure Root would be here when she woke up. Was something else going down that she was missing out on?

“I think there were some minor injuries, but all the others are alive.” There was something in Zoe’s voice that set off an alarm bell in Shaw’s head.

“What’s going on?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Where is everyone?”

Zoe stood up and looked away towards the door.

“I’ll go get you some water. I’d imagine you’re thirsty after being asleep for so long.”

Shaw growled.

“Zoe, tell me what’s going on.”

Zoe looked back at her and then at the door again, chewing on her lip in an uncharacteristically nervous way.

“I’ll get Fusco. He knows more than I do about this,” she said finally, before hurrying out of the room.

Shaw pulled herself forward so she was no longer leaning against the back of the bed. There was an IV still in her left arm and she considered ripping it out, but decided to wait until she was sure she needed to move.

Fusco popped his head into the room a second later.

“Hey there, killer. How’s it feel to save the day?”

He came into the room and stood behind the chair Zoe had vacated.

“Like I got shot full of lead and then subjected to medieval torture. Where’s everyone else?”

Fusco’s fingers drummed nervously on the back of the chair. She studied his face for clues but mostly noticed that he had a black eye and bruising on his cheek.

“And what the hell happened to your face?”

Fusco’s hand poked gingerly at his injured cheek.

“Yeah, your crazy girlfriend did a real number on me trying to get away and run after you. Got bruises all over my rib cage and I’m lucky she didn’t break my toes.”

Shaw grinned, imagining the scene in her mind. Fusco was probably lucky to still be alive. She quickly smoothed the grin off her face, though. She owed Fusco for what he’d done.

“Yeah, uh, thanks for that,” she said, meaning it but feeling awkward about voicing it.

Fusco nodded, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.

“Now what the hell is going on?” she asked, pleasantries done with.

Fusco shifted back and forth nervously.

“What’s going on where?” he asked, evasively.

Shaw wondered if she was up to grabbing him by his collar and shaking the truth out of him.

“With the rest of the team. Where’s Root? And Reese?”

Fusco sighed.

“The thing is, I’m not exactly sure. They both took off.”

“To do what?”

Fusco shrugged.

“Don't know what Root had planned, but probably nothing good knowing her. And Reese went to find her after he recovered.”

Well that sounded suspicious as hell.

“After he recovered from what? Reese get hurt?” She hadn't thought he'd been badly injured when she found them.

Fusco looked like he was considering fleeing the room.

“No, uh, Root tased him.” He scrunched his face up. “They were arguing about something and it looked like he’d talked her out of whatever it was but then as soon as he turned his back she zapped him good and took off. Once he got up again he told me to call Zoe to help keep an eye on you and then he left as well.”

Shaw chewed on that for a minute. She couldn’t think of anything that would make Root go off like that unless it involved the Machine. Was the Machine in danger?

“She didn’t look right,” Fusco continued, watching his own fingers on the back of the chair. “Something about the eyes, you know. I’ve seen people with eyes like that before, so cold you could freeze to death lookin’ in 'em. Whatever it is she left to do I wouldn’t want to be standing in her way.”

Shaw frowned to herself, still at a loss as to what Root could possibly be after.

Zoe returned then with a glass of water that she took and drained half of, startled by how thirsty she felt suddenly.

“Have you tried to contact either of them?” she asked finally.

“Only Reese and he’s not answering,” Fusco said. “Think we’ve gotta wait this time. Nothing we can do until they resurface on their own.”

Well, that was a completely unacceptable answer.

“Comlink. Now.” She held her hand out, sure Fusco had an earpiece on him.

“Reese told us not to let you get involved,” Fusco said, hesitating. “Said he’d handle it.”

Shaw didn’t pull her hand back and continued to stare at him in the most threatening way she could manage.

Zoe sighed, exasperated.

“Give her a comlink, Fusco. She’s probably physically incapable of getting very far on her own and she’s not going to relax until she sorts this out.”

Fusco, outnumbered, reached into his pocket and pulled a comlink earpiece out and handed it over to Shaw.

“Get out,” she snapped at both of them.

Zoe looked slightly offended but didn’t argue, dragging Fusco out after her.

Shaw’s first instinct was to try and contact Root, but if she was really off doing something dumb and dangerous she’d probably be less than forthcoming if she answered at all. Reese was more likely to give her a useful update.

“Reese?” she asked, opening a line to him.

She could tell that she’d connected but there was still a few seconds of silence before he replied.

“Shaw. How’re you doing?”

“Really tired of everyone asking me that. Tell me what you and Root are up to or I’m coming out there to sort it out myself.”

She looked around the room again, wondering where her clothes and guns were. Zoe might think she couldn’t get far, but she clearly was underestimating her.

“I’m trailing Root,” Reese said, carefully. “She’s...not thinking clearly right now. I’m going to bring her back.”

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose with the fingers on her good arm.

“Reese, just tell me what’s going on. What’s Root doing?”

“I’m not completely sure, but I think she’s planning on blowing up a Samaritan facility. At least one.”

“Why the hell would she do that?” Not that it wasn’t a nice thought.

“At one point she was looking for Martine Rousseau, but now she might be going for maximum destruction.” Reese sounded exhausted and Shaw wondered if any of the others had gotten any sleep.

“Martine? Why her? I shot her full of holes. She’s going to be sitting on the sidelines for awhile.”

“Have you talked to Root?” Reese asked instead of answering.

“No, tried you first. Thought you’d be more likely to give me a clear answer. Guess I was wrong about that.”

Reese sighed.

“Sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Root was, uh, upset after everything. She looked…. I've seen people look like that before, Shaw. Like no one’s home in their head.”

Shaw wasn’t sure she’d seen Root like that, but she knew the sort of look Reese was talking about, had seen it during her time in the Marines and the ISA. It was easy to underestimate Root when she was being goofy and erratic, but Shaw had sometimes gotten glimpses of the fury in her, more of it than she’d ever seen in another person. It was pushed down, contained, but it was always there. And if it had gone beyond anger into something more controlled and deadly, then Reese would never be able to talk her down.

“What was she so pissed about? Did Samaritan do something to the Machine?”

Reese made a noise that sounded almost like a distressed laugh.

“You almost died, Shaw. Even after we got you to the doctor it was pretty touch and go for a bit. After you stabilized and we knew you’d be alright, Root...changed. Like someone threw a switch in her head. Said she was going to find Martine and kill her by inches and then burn the rest of Samaritan to the ground.”

Shaw shook her head, confused. She knew Root would have taken a bullet for her, wouldn’t even think twice about sacrificing herself, but this was something different.

“Why didn’t the Machine stop her?”

“No clue,” Reese said. “But I need to keep moving if I’m going to.”

A thought occurred to her.

“If she's still wearing her jacket, I can tell you where she is.”

“You bugged her?” Reese asked. He failed to sound surprised.

“Tracking device on a couple of her favorite jackets. Thought she might try to slip out when she was supposed to be staying inside for those two weeks.”

Since Root could always track her down with the Machine’s help it had felt fair. And even if it hadn’t felt fair she didn’t particularly give a fuck at the moment.

“That’s…. No, I don’t need that.”

“Why not? You know where she’s headed?”

“No, uh, I may have put a tracking device on her at some point, too.”

Shaw laughed but it hurt too much and she willed herself to stillness. She didn’t need to ask why he'd done that. One of the first conversations she’d had with Reese had been about him putting a tracking device on Finch. He did it for people he cared about. Which probably meant….

“I’m gonna find the ones you planted on my stuff and make you eat them.”

“Fair enough.”

He didn’t sound too worried.

“Where is she now?” They needed to stay focused here.

“I’m where she was about twenty minutes ago, I think. She, uh, found a Samaritan agent and asked him some questions. Don't think she liked the answers she got.”

“Agent still there?”

“What’s left of him, anyway.”

Which meant the Machine wasn’t helping Root right now. Because judging by Reese’s voice whatever he was looking at was pretty bad and the Machine wouldn’t have helped Root if she was torturing and killing someone. Even a Samaritan agent.

“Go find her,” she told him. “I’ll try and get her attention and stall her.”

“Good luck with that.”

She ended the call and immediately tried to contact Root, hoping the Machine would force the call through.

“Root, you’d better fucking answer me.”

The pause was even longer than the one with Reese had been.

“Shaw. You’re awake.” Root sounded completely calm, too calm.

“Yeah, and you’re being an idiot. Again. I thought we had an understanding about you not running off and doing dumb shit that’s going to get you killed.”

There was the fact that she was currently lying in bed recovering from almost getting herself killed, but that was different. They’d all have died if someone hadn’t gotten to that button, and she’d been the best choice. There was no reason for Root to be risking herself now.

“Don’t worry, Shaw. I’m just taking care of some things.”

Root's voice was detached and Shaw wasn’t sure that she was completely aware that they were actually talking.

“Root. Listen to me. If you don’t stop right now I’m going to have to get up and come drag you back myself. Probably bleed to death halfway down the street, but I’ve never let a little dying stop me before.”

“You...you shouldn’t move. You’re hurt.”

There was a note of uncertainty in Root’s voice which Shaw took as an improvement.

“Tough. Taking my IV out right now,” she said, fingers picking at the tape on her arm. “Ask the Machine if you don’t believe me.”

“Shaw…” Root sounded distressed now which was better than the cold distance from before.

Shaw ripped the IV out of her arm. Hopefully even if Root wasn’t asking the Machine would tell her. Now she had to figure out how to stand up without falling on her face.

“Shaw, wait, you can’t…”

“Oh, _I_ can’t? But you’re free to run around and do whatever you want?”

“You almost died.” Root’s voice cracked.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, probably won’t be the last. Whatever you’re about to do won’t change that.”

“If they’re all dead…”

“Samaritan will replace them. You know that.”

She managed to turn sideways, get her legs over the side of the bed, the injured one throbbing. She still felt heavy, sluggish, from all the drugs in her system.

“I can’t…” Root said, softly. “I can’t let this go. There was nothing I could do to help you, but this is something I can do. I’m tired of losing things, watching them slip away.”

“Where are you?” Shaw asked. “And don’t think not telling me will matter. The Machine will probably help me out.” She wished she had her phone so she could track Root herself.

“I’m...near a Samaritan base. A few blocks away.”

“Okay, good. Now turn around and go right back the way you came. That simple.”

“I can’t,” Root repeated. “I stopped walking but…. I can’t go back.”

At least she’d stopped. Shaw hoped Reese was getting close.

“Which facility are you near?” she asked. Maybe if she kept Root distracted it would give Reese enough time.

“It’s near the one in Brooklyn we broke into. It’s another training facility, I think. There’s a lot of people stationed there.” Root’s voice sounded strained, like she was fighting herself.

“And what was your plan? Gonna run in there, guns blazing?”

“I have C4. A lot of it. I didn’t want any of them getting out.”

It was a lousy plan, but at least it was slightly more thought-out than busting the door down would have been.

Shaw leaned heavily on her good arm. She wanted very badly to go back to sleep. Getting hurt this much had taken the energy out of her and she knew her body needed rest to repair itself. But first she had to make sure Root was going to come back. She struggled to think of something else to distract her.

“Where’re you hiding the rest of those dumb shirts?” It was the first thing she thought of. “Because every time I think I’ve found all of them you show up with new ones and I’ve been over that place with a fine-toothed comb.”

There was a long pause.

“The shirts?” Root still sounded distant, untethered, but there was confusion in her voice now.

“Yeah, the stupid ones with the unfunny puns on them. Where the hell are you hiding them?”

She was hoping to get some sort of teasing response out of Root, mocking her for not being able to find things in her own apartment.

“I...I want to come back now,” Root said, softly.

She sounded completely broken and Shaw felt out of her depth for the first time in the conversation. She could deal with angry Root, with annoying Root, but this Root she didn’t know what to do with.

“So come back.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ve seen you do some really crazy, dangerous shit and you’re telling me you can’t walk to a subway station on your own?” She got that it was more complicated than that, but she thought not acknowledging that might be the best approach.

“I’m sorry,” Root said and Shaw wasn’t completely sure what she was apologizing for.

“You coming back then?”

There was no response and Shaw shifted restlessly.

“Root?”

A different voice came over the line.

“I’ve got her, Shaw."

Reese. He must have caught up.

“She okay?”

“Taking a little nap, but otherwise alright. I’m bringing her back.”

Shaw slumped, feeling all the tension draining out of her body. She really needed to sleep now. Everything ached and the room was spinning a little. She wondered how far she would have made it if she’d actually tried to leave.

“Good catch, Reese.” She felt like she should say more, but she wasn’t sure which words would be enough and which would be too much.

“You all came for me after everything with Carter,” he said and she knew that he understood what she’d wanted to say.

“I’m...gonna pass out for a bit, I think. Make sure she doesn’t run off again?”

“I'm not taking any chances this time,” he said, grimly. “Getting tased once was more than enough.”

Somehow she’d forgotten about that. It was less funny now that she knew the full story, but still a little humorous.

“I’ll see you both when I wake up, then. Right?”

“You’ll see us, Shaw.”

She killed the line and began the painful process of getting herself fully back onto the bed. Once she was settled she started drifting off almost immediately, hoping that the next time she woke up things would be sorted out.

 

* * *

 

   

It was night when Shaw woke up next. The light in her room was on, but outside the windows everything was dark.

Her bed was still upright, but someone had put the IV back in her arm much to her disgust. It wasn’t even hooked up to anything, but considering her current pain levels they’d probably used it to give her another shot of morphine or something similar.

It took her a second to register that she wasn’t alone. The chair next to her bed was empty, but there was someone sprawled on the bed in the corner.

Root looked thoroughly unconscious, probably drugged, Shaw figured. Maybe Reese’s payback for the whole taser thing. She also had one wrist handcuffed to the headboard of the bed which made Shaw roll her eyes.

It would be hard to find someone who knew more about handcuffs than Root (except Shaw herself, arguably); there was no way that was even going to slow her down.

Root looked worse than Shaw felt. Her shirt was completely coated in dried blood, as were her hands and arms. There were even streaks of blood on her face, which, Shaw vaguely remembered, she might have done back in the elevator. Had Root not even stopped to clean herself up?

Also whose blood was all over her? Shaw’s? The Samaritan agent Reese had found? Her own? Surely Reese would have taken care of her if she was really hurt.

Even though she was unconscious and covered in blood, seeing Root here and safe loosened a knot in Shaw’s chest she hadn’t realized was there. Somehow she’d come to expect to see Root when she woke up and having her here made everything feel more normal.

Someone had dragged the nightstand table over next to Shaw’s hospital bed and left a phone and her gun on top of it within reach. As much as she appreciated having a weapon back it wasn't useful at the moment. She scooped up the phone and texted Reese immediately. A few minutes later there was a quiet knock on the door and then Reese entered and came over.

“You’re limping,” she pointed out.

“Leg got grazed in the shoot-out,” he said, quietly. “Nothing serious.”

She figured he’d gotten rest at some point because he didn’t look ready to keel over. Also his clothes looked fresh.

“Everything calm now?”

“More or less. Haven’t had any run-ins with Samaritan. Fusco and Zoe had to take off, but I’ve got Bear in the other room. Would have brought him in but I didn’t want him to jump all over you.”

It was a testament to how bad she felt that she didn’t argue with that.

“She okay?” she asked, jerking her head towards where Root was lying.

Reese twisted his mouth.

“She had a nasty cut on her side from something, but the bleeding had stopped. I cleaned it and stuck a bandage on it, but she probably should have gotten stitches. Otherwise she wasn’t hurt. Exhausted, probably, but not hurt.”

“Lot of blood.”

“Mostly yours, I think. I would have taken her shirt off, but....” He looked uncomfortable. “Didn’t seem appropriate.”

It was so like Reese to be a gentleman even to an unconscious killer who had tased him earlier that day.

“You the one who handcuffed her?”

“Didn’t want her running off again.”

Shaw snorted.

“Yeah, that’s really not going to help at all. She’ll be out of that within a minute of waking up.”

“So what should I do?” Reese asked, voice sharper than his usual flat tone. He shut his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“Don’t think she’s gonna go anywhere this time,” Shaw said, watching Root’s slow, even breathing. She was choosing to ignore Reese snapping at her; under the circumstances it didn't seem important.

Shaw finally looked away from Root and turned back to Reese, searching for something else to talk about.

“What, uh, what happened to Hersh?” He was the only one she hadn’t accounted for.

“Went back to DC to fill in Control, I think. Find out if Samaritan had figured out he was with us.”

“If they know, he’s not gonna live long.”

She didn’t really care if Hersh died, but he’d been useful to them. Having him stay alive was probably a good thing for them as much as it pained her to admit it. If nothing else it meant Control would get a full account of what had happened. She hoped Hersh made her sound appropriately badass when relating the story.

“He knows that,” Reese said. “He’s going to do some recon before reappearing.”

Shaw nodded, out of things to say about the topic. She felt restless already; being stuck in bed was pure torture.

“You want a book or something?” Reese asked, picking up on her thoughts.

“Laptop?” She could find something to pass some time on a computer. For a little while anyway. She wasn’t looking forward to what the next few weeks were going to entail.

“Think there’s one downstairs.”

Reese brought her a laptop she’d never seen before and an entire pitcher of water with a promise to get her some sort of food soon. She told him that if he brought her soup or something dumb like that he’d end up wearing it, but the look on his face said that the threat didn’t deter him. Stupid doctor had probably left him instructions.

In the end he compromised and brought her a plate of dry toast and eggs, very bland, but better than soup broth. She decided to let him live as long as the next meal was more substantial.

She must have dozed off again because she found herself blinking awake some time later.

She felt the bed shift slightly and looked down to find Root curled up next to her on the lower half of the bed, head tucked up against the side of Shaw's hip and legs folded up awkwardly on a bed that was definitely not big enough for two people.

Shaw glanced back at the other bed and saw the cuff that had been around Root’s wrist hanging open. She smirked, weirdly proud.

She looked down at Root, sleeping peacefully next to her, and wondered what she should expect when she woke up. Would Root still be the way she had been when they’d spoken earlier, torn between cold rage and a complete meltdown?

She still didn't fully get why Root had tried something that monumentally stupid. She understood being angry, getting revenge, but this felt like a completely disproportionate response.

She’d never imagined a scenario where someone cared about her so much they’d try to blow up half a city just to remove the possibility of something bad happening to her in the future. It was completely ridiculous, and over the top, and very, very Root.

She thought about the moment of clarity she'd had in the basement of the stock exchange, the feeling of realization for something she couldn't put into words. Root curled up next to her, still covered in her blood, was part of that. Shaw had stepped out into a rain of bullets for her and in return Root had tried to burn the world down.

It should worry her, having something that tied her so strongly and volatilely to another person, but after that absurd day when Root had been stoned out of her mind and gone on about different types of caring, Shaw thought that maybe Root knew what she was signing herself up for.

Even still, the whole thing made her feel weird, like something was expected of her, something she couldn’t provide even if she knew what it was.

She decided that if she was doomed to sit around and think about serious shit while trapped in bed, Root could at least have the decency to share her misery so she reached down to shake her by the shoulder.

It took Root a few seconds to wake up and when she did she almost fell off the bed before she was completely awake.

“Hey,” she said, smiling sleepily as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey?” Shaw raised her eyebrows. “Really? You take off on a dumbass suicide mission and Reese has to drag you back by the scruff of your neck and that’s all you have to say?”

Root pursed her lips, thinking this over.

“Yes,” she finally decided. “Hey.”

She grinned and even though Shaw kind of wanted to smack her upside the head for being an insufferable brat she felt a little better. She knew how to deal with this Root.

“You gonna stay here this time or do I have to get Reese to lock you in the closet?”

From the sullen look on Root's face she seemed more like a child getting scolded for stealing cookies than a dangerous killer being told not to murder hundreds of people.

“I'll be good,” Root said, tipping her head to the side and smiling in a teasing way that didn't lend credence to her words.

Shaw wasn't impressed.

“You know, technically, you've still got another day or two that you're supposed to be staying inside for, but I think I'm adding two weeks to that for bad behavior.”

She expected Root to protest, or, more likely, make a dirty joke about getting punished, but instead she turned away to take up an advanced study of the floor.

Shaw nudged her with her knee.

“Maybe you should go put on some clothes that don't scream homicidal maniac,” she suggested.

Root’s fingers tightened where they were gripping the sheets.

“Most of it’s your blood. You...there was a lot of blood.” Her voice was very small.

She looked up at Shaw, saying nothing, but studying her in an intense silence. Shaw shifted slightly under the weight of her gaze and nudged her with her knee again.

“Doesn't matter whose blood it is. It's still a mess. Go clean yourself up.”

Root nodded and left the room without another word. Shaw grabbed her phone to text Reese and let him know to keep an eye out in case Root decided to bolt. She didn't think it was likely, but with Root who could tell.

Reese responded to her text with a picture of Bear asleep on the couch downstairs. She decided that he was hereby pre-forgiven for the next stupid thing he did.

Root came back about fifteen minutes later, the blood all gone and wearing an oversized men's white dress shirt that only covered down to her mid-thigh. It must have been Reese's, but it looked a lot better on her.

She padded barefoot over to the end of Shaw's bed and stood there, uncertain.

“Zoe is going to get some of our clothes from your apartment tomorrow,” she said as if she needed to explain her current outfit.

“Zoe has good taste,” Shaw admitted. She probably wouldn't bring any of Root's dumb shirts.

Root was still staring at her with that focused intensity she’d had before, as if she was afraid Shaw would disappear if she stopped looking at her. Shaw wasn’t completely sure what Root wanted from her. Clearly she wasn’t about to vanish or fall over dead, couldn’t Root see that?

“I thought…” Root started. She paused and swallowed, looking at the window. “You were bleeding so much and…”

Shaw tried to sink into her pillows, as if she could fall away from the raw grief in Root’s voice. She had that feeling again that she got around Root when conversations turned serious, that she was supposed to _do_ something, _say_ something. But every thing she could think of was a recycled platitude that would have sounded hollow and fake.

“The Machine kept telling me to stop, to go back...but I didn’t listen. I think I would have turned Her off if I could have.” Root's voice brimmed with emotions that made Shaw's chest feel tight, constricted.

“I’m tired,” Shaw blurted out, unable to sit quietly through the tidal wave of emotions washing through the room.

Root turned back to her, her face going through a series of expressions too quickly for Shaw to pick them all out before landing on a familiar one: very in control, very sure of herself.

Compartmentalizing, Shaw thought.

“Of course,” Root said, her voice carrying an apology. “You’re hurt. I’ll leave you alone to sleep.”

She turned towards the door.

“Didn’t say you should leave.”

Root’s words and emotions might have made Shaw uneasy, but she didn’t want Root _gone_. She didn’t like the thought of Root sitting in another room by herself with all that weight pressing down on her. She couldn’t comprehend what Root was going through, couldn’t fix it, but if Root was really so terrified of losing her then kicking her out definitely wasn't going to help.

And maybe she didn't like waking up and not knowing where Root was. After everything that had happened in the damn stock exchange it felt pointless to deny something so simple.

Root turned back to face her, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth despite the wariness in her eyes. There were so many layers of masks and concealment she wore that it was hard to tell what was real and what she was forcing herself to show.

“Who am I to refuse the wishes of such a dashing hero?” Root asked, as she came back across the floor, a full smile pulling at her lips now.

Shaw scowled at the ‘dashing hero’ bit because that sounded dumb and very uncool. Root’s smile only grew wider at her scowl and she seated herself on the side of the bed right next to Shaw.

It might have all been an act, but Shaw thought maybe what Root needed right now was to take care of her. She didn't _need_ her to, but the idea wasn't as terrible as it once might have been. And at least Root was smiling now.

Root reached across her with one arm to lightly grip Shaw's uninjured arm and run her thumb up and down it a few times. Shaw relaxed a little at the familiarity of her touch. It felt good, grounding.

She remembered when Root had first started pestering her, how every touch had felt like an invasion. And now…. Now she sometimes was the one to reach out. It wasn't instinctual the way it must be for Root, and there was always a thread of doubt that she was getting it _wrong_ in some way, but she was determined to keep trying.

“Not staying in this dumb bed,” she said after a minute. “Can’t get any decent rest in this thing.”

Root nodded and glanced over to the other bed.

“Do you need…” She stopped and frowned. “The other bed is a lot more comfortable.”

She released Shaw’s arm and circled around to stand between the two beds, looking thoughtful.

Shaw didn’t wait to see whatever half-assed plan Root was trying to cook up to get her not to take three steps across the floor on her own, and instead threw back the sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

The pain was instantaneous and overwhelming. She sucked in her breath and shut her eyes, willing it to pass. When the throbbing had died down enough for her to think again she opened her eyes, expecting to see Root flinching. Instead Root had a nasty, determined little smile that made Shaw slightly apprehensive.

“Okay, I was going to be considerate and let you try and limp across the floor by yourself, but I’ve changed my mind.”

She came over and wrapped a hand firmly around Shaw’s uninjured arm.

“Up.” Root’s tone allowed for no arguments.

Shaw grumbled under her breath and shoved at Root in an annoyed fashion for the three agonizing steps she had to take to get to the other bed. She was grateful that Root didn’t mention how much she’d needed to lean on her. Reese had helped her hobble down the hall to the bathroom earlier and that had been bad enough. She hated having them see her weak.

Once she was on the edge of the other bed she ripped off the stupid hospital gown that had been annoying her since she woke up and pulled out the damn IV again for good measure. Even as she breathed a sigh of relief she finally got a look at the damage. There were three bandages: one around her upper right arm, at the shoulder, one on her left side with tape running all the way around her torso to hold it in place, and one on her upper left leg. She mentally cataloged all of them before glancing back up at Root.

Root had moved away to turn off the light switch near the door, and when she came back she was illuminated only by the soft glow of a streetlight outside the window. She stood in front of Shaw, only an inch away, gazing down at her with a look Shaw could only describe as reverential. It was that look Shaw was coming to accept more and more, the one that made her feel warm all over.

She reached up with her good arm and grabbed the front of Root’s oversized shirt, pulling her down until she could reach her mouth and kiss her. The kiss was softer, slower than the one in the stock exchange had been, Root sighing happily into her mouth, and Shaw felt a sense of loss when she finally released her.

As soon as Root pulled back, Shaw maneuvered her legs up and into the bed, clenching her teeth against the pain as she slid in far enough for Root to have room. Root unbuttoned her shirt and dropped it on the floor, Shaw’s eyes following every movement, before climbing under the covers next to her.

Shaw tucked her injured right arm up as out of the way as she could make it before dragging Root over so she was half-lying on top of her, carefully avoiding her wounds. They still hurt a bit with the addition of Root’s slight weight, but it was worth it.

Root went willingly, but was rigid against her, as if she was holding her breath and waiting for Shaw to shove her away. Sleeping curled up together like this wasn't normal for them.

“Your feet are freezing,” Shaw said after a minute of awkward silence.

Root laughed softly, the vibration of it buzzing through Shaw’s chest, and pushed her icy feet more firmly up against Shaw’s calf.

“Asshole,” Shaw muttered without any real malice.

Root only laughed again and settled down against Shaw, the stiffness from earlier now faded away.

“I’m sorry,” Root said a few minutes later, pulling Shaw back from the brink of sleep.

“What’d you do now?” Shaw grumbled, annoyed at being kept awake.

“I wasn’t there when you woke up.”

Shaw sighed and let her fingers glide down the arm Root had thrown over her.

“Go to sleep, Root.”

 

* * *

 

The dream was different this time, clearer. Root was still trapped somewhere, watching something falling away, but this time instead of everything being foggy, indistinct dream images, all of it was clear, sharp. The place she was trapped was the elevator car in the basement of the stock exchange, the doors sliding shut slowly and inevitably, and the thing falling was Shaw, collapsing to the ground beyond her reach.

Root struggled, trying to break free of whatever it was that was holding her back, lashing out and struggling to get away.

“Ow!”

Root was awake instantly at the sound of Shaw’s voice. It took her a second to become aware of her surroundings; she was still in the townhouse bedroom, lying half on top of Shaw who was shaking her with one arm.

She sat up, pulling away and sliding to the edge of the bed, curling her arms around herself in the cooler air.

“Sorry,” she said, softly, horrified that she’d hurt Shaw in her sleep. “Did I hurt you?”

“Nightmare?” Shaw asked. She didn’t sound like she was in pain anymore.

Root let out a long shuddering breath that she tried to disguise as a chuckle.

“You could say that.”

“What was it about?”

Shaw’s voice held no judgment or sympathy. She could have been asking about the weather. The normality of her tone made it easier for Root to breathe steadily.

She thought about lying, saying she didn’t remember. She couldn’t imagine that Shaw would want to know she was having nightmares about her dying. She didn’t want to lie to Shaw, though. She’d promised herself she’d try not to.

“It was about the stock exchange,” she said, hoping that was explanation enough.

“Oh.” Shaw didn’t sound annoyed.

“I told you, the dreams are stupid. I’m sorry I woke you up.” Maybe she should go sleep in another room, or at least in the hospital bed so she wouldn’t risk hurting Shaw again.

“What’re they usually about?” Shaw asked, ignoring her apology.

Root turned to look back down at her, wondering why she wanted to know. Shaw’s eyes were dark and curious in the faint light of the bedroom. Root looked back at the floor below her feet, not wanting to make Shaw more uncomfortable than she probably already was.

“I don’t...I don’t remember much of them usually,” Root admitted. “Sometimes I drop something or something falls and I can’t catch it.”

She wished the Machine would play something for her like She usually did when she had a nightmare, but She’d been pretty quiet since Root had ignored Her and taken off to hunt down Martine and Samaritan. Root couldn’t blame Her for that.

She hadn’t been fully coherent when she’d left the townhouse, leaving John twitching on the floor, but she remembered every detail of everything she’d done after in vivid, cold clarity. Even a bad person, she thought, would have felt some sliver of horror or regret for what she’d done to that Samaritan agent, what she’d planned to do to any other agent she’d found. But she wasn’t simply a bad person, and monsters never regretted the carnage they left behind.

Reese and Shaw had to have known what she’d done, but neither of them had mentioned it. Maybe they hadn’t been surprised, had already known what she was. The thought didn’t bother her; she’d be whatever she had to be to keep Shaw safe.

“How long have you had nightmares?” Shaw asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Since I was a kid.” Why was Shaw so curious about this all of the sudden?

“When your friend disappeared?”

Root didn’t answer, not sure she wanted to talk about that right now. She jumped slightly when she felt fingers trailing along the base of her spine, hesitantly at first but then growing more confident. She relaxed after a second, letting Shaw trace lazy patterns across the small of her back with her fingertips.

“I think so. They may have started earlier than that, but that’s when I remember them from most.”

She paused for a minute, gathering her thoughts. She’d never talked to anyone about what had happened back then. She thought John might have had some small understanding since he’d been there, seen things for himself, but other than the brief awkward conversation they’d had in the subway what felt like a million years ago they’d never discussed it.

“I was so angry at the time. Being angry, being cold and detached, it felt safe, powerful. Like I could control things. And then there were these dreams and I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t make them go away. They were a flaw I couldn’t dig out or solve.”

She could only imagine how dumb all of this sounded to Shaw.

“Never had a nightmare,” Shaw said thoughtfully.

Root nodded to herself because of course Shaw wouldn’t have had nightmares. She wasn’t weak or flawed in any way.

“Never had one, so I don’t know what to say about it,” Shaw continued. “Don't mind listening though.”

Root turned sideways to look at Shaw again, reaching out to brush her hair out of her face. Shaw looked relaxed, almost peaceful, as if she wasn’t full of bullet wounds from saving Root’s life. Root traced down Shaw’s cheekbone with one thumb, letting herself indulge in the gentle touch under cover of darkness. Shaw held very still, not looking away from her for a second.

“You wanna tell me about what happened back then?” Shaw asked after a few minutes of letting Root pet her face. “About your friend?”

Root was deeply grateful that Shaw wasn’t saying her name. It would somehow have made all of it too real again.

“No. I…. Not now?” she made it a question.

“Whenever is fine,” Shaw said. “I’m not going anywhere.” She snorted. “Really not going anywhere right now.”

Root nodded though she wasn’t sure how well Shaw could see the motion in the darkened bedroom. She withdrew her hand from Shaw’s face, figuring she’d probably used up her allowed casual touching for the night.

“You gonna get back in?” Shaw asked, and Root thought she picked up a note of uncertainty in Shaw’s voice. Like she thought maybe Root wasn’t going to stay there with her.

She’d been thinking about crawling off to another bedroom to sleep, or maybe going and trying to get some work done, but she couldn’t now. If Shaw wanted her here there was obviously no way she could ever leave.

She slid back under the covers, carefully rearranging herself around Shaw to try and avoid her injuries as much as possible. Shaw gave a contented sigh under her and settled back down to sleep.

Root lay there for awhile longer, indulging in the solid, warm weight of Shaw, the steady sound of her breathing. Tomorrow she'd have to start planning, find a way for them to fight back. But right now Shaw was here, alive and safe, and she could rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always most nervous about chapters revolving around feelings/emotions since like Shaw I'm bad at dealing with them and I can never tell if it's too much or not enough. I generally end up going back and deleting huge chunks during editing. This one was no exception.
> 
> No clue when the next chapter will be done. Hopefully soon.


	26. Team Bottlerocket

 

Reese was surprised to find Root on the couch downstairs in the townhouse living room. It was early evening the night after the whole ‘tasing incident’ as he was thinking of it, and he’d been gone almost the whole day at work.

Root didn’t look upset and the cold fury that had emanated from her yesterday seemed to have abated some. Her laptop was sitting on her crossed legs and she was focused enough on whatever she was typing that she didn’t even glance up when he came in.

He was pleased to note that she was wearing clothes that weren’t covered with blood or his and guessed that Zoe must have made good on her promise to pick up some supplies for them from Shaw’s place.

“Hey, Root,” he said, cautiously as he walked into the living room and put the bag of takeout food he’d brought down on the coffee table.

“John.” She didn’t even pause.

She hadn't apologized for tasing him or mentioned anything that had happened after when she'd borrowed a shirt from him the previous night. He wasn't sure if he should be upset or relieved about that; the rage that had gripped Root was something he knew from experience wouldn't vanish quickly. Maybe it was better if they both let it lie for now.

Still, she could at least look up from her work for two seconds to say hello.

“How’s Shaw doing?” he asked, wondering what would happen if he tried to take her laptop away. Probably something far worse than being tased.

Root’s typing slowed to a halt and she let out a sigh. She rolled her shoulders back with a frown, as if puzzled by how stiff they were, and then stretched her arms over her head.

“She’s asleep,” she said once she was fully out of her typing daze.

Reese was a little surprised that Root had left Shaw at all. She must have seen it in his face because the corner of her mouth twitched a little.

“Laptops are banned in the bedroom,” she explained, “and I didn’t want to risk waking her up with the typing. She’s got a phone so she can text me when she wakes up.”

“The Machine wouldn’t tell you?”

Root’s face went carefully blank and she looked away from him, her eyes drifting across the room to land on the bag he’d brought.

“You brought food?” she asked.

“Is the Machine not talking to you?” he asked, a tendril of worry winding its way in.

If it had been Root and Shaw having a tiff he’d have stayed out of it, but the Machine was a different matter completely. When he’d found the remains of the Samaritan agent Root had questioned it had made it pretty clear to him that Root wasn’t listening to the Machine. Even if it hadn’t placed as much value on human lives as he’d sometimes thought it should, there was no way it would stand for what she’d done. Was it mad at her?

“No, She’s talking to me. We’re...I think we need to realign our priorities a bit, is all.”

Root was poking through the takeout bag, pulling out containers and eyeing the contents of each with a great deal of scrutiny.

“Did the Machine’s priorities shift?” he asked, uneasy.

“Not Hers, no.”

Reese thought back on the look he’d seen on Root’s face when she’d carried Shaw out of the stock exchange, covered in her blood. It figured that when Root finally found another human she gave a shit about she took it to the extreme. She’d never been one to do things by halves.

“That gonna be a problem?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, almost gentle.

Root might look a lot better today, but he’d seen her yesterday when she’d been completely gone inside her head. When he’d found her in Brooklyn, only a few blocks from another Samaritan building, she’d had her back to him, but she’d been shaking all over despite the warm weather. He wondered what Shaw had said to her to get her to stop.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, giving up on the food and leaning back on the couch. “I told Her that She could replace me if She needed to, if She needed someone who wasn’t...emotionally compromised.”

Reese felt a slight flare of anger. The Machine had been the thing that had tried to teach Root to respect human lives. It would be hypocritical of it to punish her for doing just that.

“And what did it say?” He kept his voice neutral.

“She said…” Root had grabbed one of the little plastic bags of silverware that had come with the takeout and was ripping holes in it. “She said She had no interest in replacing me.”

Reese felt a little better hearing that, though Root was quite obviously not satisfied with the answer. He didn’t think he was the right person to dig deeper into whatever it was that had left Root so unable to value her own life. He hadn’t even recognized the problem until he’d started taking things his psychologist had talked to him about and using them to view others around him in a more subjective fashion.

“Should we wake up Shaw for this?” he asked, gesturing at the food containers.

He’d gotten a bunch of different dishes from an Italian place he quite liked. Shaw had demanded ‘real’ food and who was he to deny someone who’d taken three bullets for them?

Some part of him still felt guilty that Shaw had been the one who’d gotten shot instead of him. But while having a shootout with Samaritan agents in the stock exchange wasn’t something he could exactly bring up in therapy, he could recognize how it might tie into his supposed ‘hero complex’.

Having a fancy psychology term for it didn’t do anything to make him feel less guilty.

Root’s phone buzzed on the coffee table and she scooped it up and smiled.

“Shaw’s awake. I think she has a sixth sense about food.”

“Should we bring something up for her?” Reese asked, wondering how much would be enough. Last time Shaw had been injured her appetite had tripled.

“I’ll go check on her, but it might be best to bring all of it up and eat there,” Root said as she got up and headed for the stairs.

Reese obligingly started stuffing all the food back into the bag. Root reappeared right when he finished and motioned for him to follow her.

Shaw was sitting propped up in the large bed wearing an oversized hoodie and a scowl. The room was a mess; a bag of clothes had been dumped all over the hospital bed and what looked like the remains of colorful balloons were scattered along one wall.

“Did someone murder a clown?” Reese asked raising an eyebrow at Shaw.

“Fusco brought get-well balloons,” Root explained, taking the food from him and handing it over to Shaw who snatched it impatiently. “And I brought darts.”

“The balloons had _flowers_ and _hearts_ on them,” Shaw growled, offended.

She struggled to pull things out of the bag with one arm and swatted away Root’s help. Root only took a step back and watched with a fond smile as Shaw ripped the entire side of the bag open. Once Shaw found something that she decided was worth eating and dove into it she allowed Root to sort out the rest of the food containers and get rid of the remains of the bag.

Reese pulled a chair up near the end of the bed and took whatever Root passed him. He wasn’t surprised when Root chose to climb onto the bed next to Shaw rather than sitting in a chair, but he had expected Shaw to shove her away or glare when Root sat a little too close. She didn’t even appear to notice.

“Reese, I’m bored as fuck,” Shaw complained as soon as her mouth wasn’t full.

Root patted her knee in a way that toed the line between endearing and patronizing.

“It’s been one day,” Reese pointed out. “You probably shouldn’t even be walking around for the first week. At least.”

The last thing they needed was for Shaw to reopen her wounds and bleed to death. Root would probably steal nuclear launch codes and blow the whole planet out of orbit.

“I went through med school,” Shaw grumbled. “I think I can judge what I can and can’t do.”

He wondered if she’d been this cranky all day and how Root had put up with it. She didn’t look put out at all. In fact, she was spending more time watching Shaw with the softest look he’d ever seen on her than she was eating. It was a bit wild how Shaw could drive Root to both her most gentle and most violent in such a short time.

“How about helping us out with the numbers on the information-gathering side of things?” Reese offered as a compromise.

Shaw waved her plastic fork around in exasperation.

“I’m not an idiot, Reese. I know I’m not going to be running around fighting perps for a bit. It’s being stuck in bed that I object to.”

Reese looked at Root for help but she was suspiciously over-focused on her food.

“I mean, you're in charge so it’s not my call…” he said, helplessly.

“Exactly,” Shaw said, cramming more food in her mouth.

She seemed to think she’d won an argument, but Reese wasn’t sure what the argument had even been. Root finally looked up at him with a mischievous half-smile and shook her head ever so slightly.

Yeah, he had no clue what was going on anymore. Oh well.

“Fusco is working on a new number,” he said, trying to change the subject. “Apparently he’s working alongside one of our former numbers on this one: Dani Silva.”

“That IA cop the Machine was all hot for?” Shaw asked around a mouthful of pasta.

Root looked slightly annoyed by the question but hid it before Shaw noticed.

“She transferred to gang division apparently,” Reese said. “Think the number may be an outsource hit-man for gangs looking to get rid of problems.”

“Anyone ask Elias?” Shaw asked as she dug through the remaining food containers.

Reese had suggested as much to Fusco, but he hadn’t wanted to get Elias involved.

“Fusco thought there could be a chance Elias used this guy’s services at some point, too. Rather not have a conflict of interest with them.”

The last thing they needed was one more enemy right now.

“Good point,” Shaw agreed. “Fusco’s a good cop even if he knows shit-all about get-well presents.”

“Oh, that reminds me.”

Reese dug in his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle that he held out to Shaw. Her uninjured arm was too far away so Root took it from him instead. There were three metal slugs inside that rattled around as he passed it over.

“I figured if you were gonna take three bullets for the team you at least deserved to keep them,” Reese explained.

Shaw looked at the bottle in Root’s hand and snorted.

“Better than balloons, but I'll pass.”

“I’ll hold onto them,” Root said, quickly, closing her hand around the bottle.

“What the hell are you going to do with them?” Shaw asked as if this, of all things, was the weirdest thing Root had done.

“I was thinking about making Martine eat them, for starters,” Root said, smiling in that way that still made the hair on the back of Reese’s neck stand up.

Shaw rolled her eyes.

“If you see Martine again, shoot her in the heart. And then in the head for good measure. Being dramatic is amateur hour.”

Root pocketed the bottle but didn’t respond.

“Tell Fusco to call me if he needs any computer help on this number,” Shaw said, steering the conversation back to business. “Be more interesting than staring at a wall.”

“If he needs _any_ help at all tomorrow you’ll be his only backup.” Root smiled. “John and I have a play date.”

This was the first he’d heard of it.

“We do?” he asked right as Shaw asked, “You do?”

Root basked in their confused stares and looked pleased with herself.

“Only a safe little side trip to acquire some items for the Machine. We probably won’t even need to be armed.”

“I’m going to be armed,” Reese said. He didn’t care if Root, the Machine, and Samaritan all signed an affidavit telling him he’d be safe; he was going armed.

Shaw looked back and forth between them, annoyed. She shoved the remainder of her food away and activated her comlink.

“Fusco, where are you? Fill me in on everything about your number. I want a full report.”

She was still discussing things with Fusco when Root and Reese finished gathering up the empty food containers and slipped out to take them downstairs.

“So what are we really doing?” Reese asked as they made their way into the kitchen.

“I’d hate to ruin the surprise.”

“Ruin it.”

Root shook her head and looked amused.

“It’s so secret you can’t even tell me? We’re on the same side here, Root.”

Well, when she wasn’t tasing him, anyway.

“I can’t tell you, John, because before you leave here tonight you’re going to go upstairs and say goodbye to Shaw and she’s going to ask you for details. And because you try not to lie to Shaw you’ll tell her.”

Reese raised his eyebrows.

“The Machine tell you all that?”

“She didn’t have to.”

Root waltzed out of the kitchen looking smug, but he followed her into the living room, unwilling to let her have her dramatic exit.

“But you’re gonna tell me before we go to do whatever it is tomorrow. Otherwise I’m not helping. Maybe you’re forgetting that yesterday you tased me and I had to chase you halfway across the city and carry you back here.”

If he hadn’t known Root fairly well by now he might have missed the tiny twitch of her expression that belied her cheerful demeanor. As he'd suspected, what he’d seen in her yesterday had been too strong to be dealt with that quickly. She might have pushed it down, tidied it away, but somewhere under her playful smirk there was a mess of emotional turmoil still churning around.

“I’ll tell you on the way tomorrow,” she promised. “And no more tasing for at least a week.”

He wondered again if she knew that she couldn’t actually wink.

“And you’re okay leaving Shaw here by herself?”

Root made a face.

“Zoe is going to stop by for an ‘unexpected’ visit for most of the day.”

Reese’s mouth twitched into a small smile. He could imagine Shaw’s outrage if any of them openly implied she needed someone to help her out.

Root flopped back onto the couch and picked up her laptop so Reese headed up to say goodnight to Shaw on his own. The conversation with Fusco must have gone well enough because Shaw looked slightly less cranky than she had earlier.

“What’s Root got you doing tomorrow?” Shaw asked without preamble.

Reese took a moment to silently be annoyed at Root for being correct yet again.

“She won’t say. If it looks dangerous I’ll put a stop to it.”

Shaw chuckled.

“You’ll try.”

She wiped the smile off her face almost immediately.

“Did, uh, did she say anything to you about yesterday?”

Reese shook his head.

Shaw nodded and looked down at where her fingers were picking at the blankets.

“A lot happened in a very short time,” Reese said. “Takes a little time to process it.”

“That's not….” Shaw frowned. “I'm not…”

She let out a frustrated sigh.

“Don't want a repeat of yesterday, is all. But maybe I'm not the best suited for that sort of talk.”

She had that look she got when she couldn’t figure out how other people worked.

“Okay…” Reese said, wondering why she thought _he_ was any better suited. “I'll keep an eye on her.”

Shaw continued to stare down at her hands.

“How’d things go with Fusco?” Reese asked, deciding that a topic change was in order.

Shaw looked relieved.

“Eh, alright. I think he’ll have more trouble keeping Dani from charging off on her own than from busting this perp. Machine might be right about her, though. She’s chasing this guy on her own initiative, no backup. Doesn’t like it when the rules get in the way of getting justice.”

“You saying we should try and recruit her again?”

He’d rather liked Dani but he wasn’t sure this was the time to get anyone tangled up in their mess. Especially after the stock exchange.

“Dunno. Maybe not now.”

They both ran out of things to talk about and Reese quickly said goodnight before the silence could hang too long.

There were a lot of things he wanted to say to her: thanks for almost dying for them in the stock exchange, that he was glad she was alright, that if Root’s revenge plan hadn’t been so unstable he’d probably have wanted to join in, that he wasn’t sure he would have wanted to keep doing all this without Shaw.

Any of those things would have made Shaw uncomfortable though so he kept them to himself. He’d try to find other ways to say thank you, ones that she’d be able to accept.

Root didn't glance up when he walked across the living room towards the front door.

“When are we doing...whatever this is tomorrow?” he asked, one hand on the doorknob.

“Nine a.m. should work,” Root said, eyes quickly flicking up and then back down to her screen. “Bring a car.”

“Anything else?”

He really wished he had a better read on her mental state.

Root stopped typing but didn't look up this time. Her face twisted into a frown and she opened and shut her mouth once or twice before shaking her head slightly.

“No.”

He nodded and left without another word. Shaw might be the one recovering from bullet wounds, but clearly Root also needed some time to recover.

 

* * *

 

Root managed to slip out of bed without waking up Shaw the next morning. She was still getting used to this new aspect of sleeping together where she'd wake up to the feeling of Shaw's skin and the reverberation of her heartbeat.

It was an incredible feeling every time, but it was also...a lot. Especially right now when her head was such a mess. Things between them always went too fast or too slow.

She slipped on a clean change of clothes as quietly as she could manage, grimacing silently when she brushed the bandaged cut on her side. Shaw had wanted to fuss at the injury, maybe give her stitches, but Root hadn’t let her. She wanted it to leave a scar.

She glanced down at Shaw again before she left, hoping that Shaw's peaceful face would calm the frenetic energy that pulsed through her, but there was that bandage on Shaw's arm poking out from under the blankets. Every time she saw it she felt like a balloon was expanding inside her stomach filling her with undirected rage and terror and leaving her nauseous.

She wanted to be able to look at Shaw and touch her and listen to her without remembering how it had felt to carry her limp and heavy body out of the stock exchange. How the blood hadn't stopped spilling out and had reminded her of that boy Dennis Cohen dying on the sidewalk. How Reese had been forced to peel her fingers off Shaw's wrist and half-carry her across the room when the doctor had asked for more space.

How Shaw had saved her life, a life she didn't feel mattered much outside its utility to the Machine.

When Shaw was awake it was easier to push those things aside, but when she saw her asleep and lying so still it all came back.

She crept out of the room as quietly as she could and made her way into the kitchen to find something to drink. As she poured herself a glass of juice, the Machine let her know that Reese would be arriving in ten minutes.

“Thank you,” she said, still off-balance with their current situation.

It felt like she and the Machine were tiptoeing around each other since the whole... _thing_ that had happened. She knew that She didn't get angry or hold grudges like a human might, but She'd been weirdly formal since Root had woken up handcuffed to the bed in the townhouse.

When Root had tased Reese and taken off, the Machine had asked her to stop, over and over again, and Root had ignored Her. In the logical, rational part of her mind she'd known that there was nothing the Machine could have done to keep Shaw from running out of the elevator, but at that moment she'd been willing to blame anyone.

Mostly herself.

By the time the Samaritan agent had choked out his last breath either the Machine had fallen silent or Root had been so far gone she hadn't been able to hear Her. And since then there'd only been the awkward conversation where she'd suggested she was unfit to keep working as Her interface.

Root wasn't sure how to fix any of it, if it was even possible to fix. She missed Her horribly; even the limited amount of communication She could use because of Samaritan was usually more personalized, more enveloping, than the flat commands and information she got now.

They needed to talk, she knew. Really talk. But when even thinking about what had happened made her jaw clench and her stomach sick the conversation was doomed to go poorly.

Everything had broken so quickly.

A soft knock at the door broke her out of her thoughts and she grabbed her coat and a backpack off the couch on her way to the door.

“Ready?” Reese asked when she opened the door.

She opted for her most self-assured smile and followed him back to his car.

Spending the day on a mission with Reese sounded like a vacation from everything in her head. He might have been involved with it all, but at least with him she could pretend everything was normal. How weird it was that John Reese, Finch's guard dog, had turned into someone whose company she valued.

He glanced at her when they both settled in the car and she could tell there were questions he wasn't asking. About her, about Shaw. She was grateful for his silence even if she felt slightly guilty; they'd put him through a lot in the last few days. Yet every time she tried to thank him or apologize she felt the whole thing rearing up in her mind again, sweeping through her in a sickening wave.

“Alright, so no more mind-games, Root. What's this secret mission?”

She breathed out. This was something she knew how to handle. She smiled at him, mischievous and smug.

“Don't you like surprises, John?”

“The last surprise you had involved carrying explosives in your jacket that could have blown us up. So no.”

She'd forgotten about that day under the overpass in Queens. He'd taken a bullet in some unneeded attempt to protect her.

“Nothing's going to blow up this time,” she assured him. “We're going to rob a hospital.”

“For what? Medical supplies?” He sounded confused, probably because they had plenty of supplies already.

“No. Some files She needs. Head towards Saint Mary's in midtown.”

He pulled the car away from the curb and into traffic.

“When's Zoe showing up?” he asked a few minutes later.

“Around nine-thirty.”

“Surprised you'd leave before she got there.”

Root wondered if that was an accusation. It hadn't sounded like it but she still shifted, uneasy.

“The Machine is watching over her and it's only about half an hour.”

She’d thought about waiting the extra time, but the need to get outside and let her mind reboot itself had been too great. Some part of her was already yearning to go back and stare at Shaw, assure herself yet again that she was alright, and some other part of her wanted to go to her little room in the subway and sleep for a week.

“How's your side?”

She honestly couldn't even remember how she'd cut it. She must have scraped up against something in the stock exchange, but it was all kind of a blur until the elevator, which, she wasn't going to think about.

“How's your leg?” she retorted. He liked being fussed over about as much as she did (though neither of them compared to Shaw).

Reese cracked one of his almost-smiles and nodded, acknowledging the point. They drove in a comfortable silence for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts.

“What's the plan?” Reese asked when they got closer.

Root fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a small hard drive.

“There's some files I need to get my hands on. They're kept on an internal network which can be accessed from a few specific computers in the building. Of course you need permissions to access the files and not many accounts have that. Not that it'll be a problem for me.”

“What do you need me for, then? Look out?”

“Partially. The best place to access the files and have enough time to find the right ones and copy them is from the server room in the basement. The problem is there's a security post blocking the only stairwell and elevator down to the basement.”

Reese raised his eyebrows.

“You want me to knock out a bunch of hospital security guards?”

“I'm pretty sure someone would notice if they all went missing,” Root said.

The Machine had told her that strategy wouldn't work. Root wasn't sure why she needed Reese at all, but she suspected the Machine might have sent him along to keep an eye on her. She was trying not to be annoyed at him for something that wasn't any of his doing.

“So?” Reese prompted her.

“I'm going to distract the guards and you're going to sneak past. Then you're going to go disable the alarm on the fire door on the far side of the basement. There are steps leading up to the ground from there and I'll join you that way.”

The Machine had been certain the alarm couldn't be disabled from outside.

“How’re you going to distract them?” Reese asked, suspiciously.

Root grinned.

“I'll improvise.”

“Oh, god.”

 

* * *

 

Reese was torn between amusement and exasperation. He'd expected Root's ‘distraction’ to be something classic, like flirting or faking a fainting spell, but apparently that hadn't been dramatic enough for her.

The entire lobby of the hospital was full of smoke and lights as dozens of small fireworks lit up the huge space. Bottle rockets whistled through the air and Roman candles flared everywhere.

He was impressed though he felt this was cheating on the whole ‘improvising’ part since she'd had an entire backpack full of the damn things already. The security guards were definitely all gone from their post though and even if they hadn't been no one would have noticed him slipping by to the elevator.

He shook his head at his last view of the lobby through the closing doors. Root knew how to keep things entertaining for sure. And with this going on it was unlikely anyone would come down to the basement any time soon.

Shaw chose that moment to contact him.

“How's your errand going, Reese? Root gotten you arrested yet?”

He wondered if Shaw could sense when Root was doing something extra nuts.

“She's certainly trying her best. How're things there?”

He almost asked about Zoe but remembered in time that her showing up was supposed to be a coincidence.

“Dull. Fusco has his stuff covered pretty well and Zoe cheats at poker more than you do.”

“It's not my fault you don't cheat as well as me,” he said.

The elevator doors opened into the basement revealing a dark empty hallway full of medical equipment and boxes.

“Gotta go, Shaw. Can't keep a lady waiting.”

The fire exit was easy enough to find by following the glowing exit signs hanging from the ceiling. The whole place felt like the set of a horror movie.

Disabling the alarm was simple enough and soon a narrow streak of sunlight was filtering into the dusty air from the outside. He looked up the short flight of steps to the street to find Root leaning against the stair railing, tapping one foot and staring into space.

“Root?” he called, softly.

She jumped slightly and he congratulated himself for finally getting the drop on her until it occurred to him that it was probably only possible because she was having some sort of squabble with the Machine, and also because he'd been on her deaf side.

Well, now he felt like an asshole.

Root recovered almost instantly and swept down the stairs past him.

“Don't see why you didn't come down in the elevator with me,” Reese said as he shut the door.

“She wanted me to make sure no one got seriously injured in the commotion,” Root explained.

She grinned back at him over one shoulder.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Might have been a bit overkill, but it was certainly entertaining.” Maybe some minor-but-safe explosions were what she needed to blow off some steam. Spreading chaos was Root's bread and butter.

“Where’re we headed?” he asked, keeping his voice low. He wasn't sure if anyone else was down here, but the quiet darkness felt like whispering territory.

“This way.”

Root led the way to a locked door and stood aside to let him deal with opening it.

“What's so special about these files you're after?” he asked as he fiddled with the locking mechanism. Good thing he kept some basic tools in his suit since Root hadn't mentioned he'd need them. Maybe the Machine had known that he did.

“She's not sure. But Samaritan agents broke in to get at them two weeks ago.”

Reese turned to stare at her as the lock popped open.

“Samaritan? Should we be here then?”

Root waved aside his concern.

“It has no interest in this place in particular. No agents were here before or after that time and the hospital isn't affiliated with any Samaritan owned companies.”

Reese hoped she was right. The last thing he wanted was another run in with Samaritan.

Root led the way into the next room, flipping a switch on the wall to illuminate a fairly unspectacular computer setup. Reese peered around the room, wondering where the rest of the machines were.

“This it?” he asked as Root busied herself at a monitor on a desk.

“This isn't a high-tech technology company, John. It's a small hospital with limited financial resources and antiquated systems.”

She had her hard drive plugged in and was transferring files now.

“You find what you needed?”

Root shrugged.

“I'm copying everything I can find. It's not much. Patient records, finances, employee information. Hopefully it'll mean something to Her.”

He wanted to ask about the Machine again, if Root was planning to work things out with it, but he willed himself to patience. The stock exchange had only been a few days ago, after all.

He waited as quietly as he was able to, trying not to cough in the dry, dusty air. His nose was itching down here.

“Think we're good to go,” Root said a few minutes later, slipping the hard drive into her jacket pocket.

“About time,” Reese grumbled and then sneezed.

“Hello?” a voice called from somewhere in the hall.

Root glared at him as if the dusty air was his fault and stalked towards the door. He got out into the hall in time to see a janitor collapse to the floor, Root standing over him with a taser in hand.

“Was that necessary?”

Root sighed and shook her head.

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

Reese moved carefully out of range.

“Can we try to not tase anyone else on the way out?”

“He's not _dead_ ,” she said, as if this made it justifiable.

He wished Shaw was here. Dealing with emotional stuff wasn't her strong suit, but dealing with Root was whether or not she believed it.

“Lashing out isn't going to make you feel better.” He didn't want to get into this here, but he also didn't want her hurting any more bystanders.

“Are you sure about that?” Her tone was clipped and angry.

“Let's get out of here,” he said standing aside and motioning towards the fire exit. There were better places to talk.

Root was silent on the way back to the car and didn't say anything when pulled out of the hospital garage either. She'd pulled out some super small tablet and plugged the hard drive into it, no doubt uploading the data they'd stolen to the Machine. She didn't look up from that until he parked the car again.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking around in confusion.

“Getting lunch.”

He got out of the car before she could ask anything else. She raised an inquiring eyebrow when she joined him on the sidewalk but he only smiled and led the way down the street to a diner he rather liked.

He heard her murmuring under her breath as she followed him, no doubt asking the Machine what he was up to, but he didn't think she'd gotten an answer based on her considering stare as they were seated in a booth at the diner.

“Are you going to lecture me?” she asked, her eyes bright and dangerous.

“No. Wouldn't be much of a point, would there?”

Root drummed her fingers on the table, head tilted to one side to study him.

“Keeping me out of the way of something else that's going on?”

“No, but you can ask the Machine if you don't believe me.”

He saw the slight flash of frustration in her eyes at that. She didn't like not knowing things.

“So why _are_ we here then?”

Reese tapped his menu.

“I wanted a sandwich.”

Root narrowed her eyes but then smiled.

“Fine, we'll play it your way.”

Apparently playing it his way meant she ignored him and remained silent until the waiter appeared to take their order.

“Think we should get something to bring back for Shaw?” he asked as the waiter left.

“Zoe might have gotten them something,” Root said, hesitantly. She was looking over the menu again.

“You could ask the Machine.”

Root glared at him.

“Don't be cute, John.”

She fell silent again, scowling at the menu as if it had offended her. He tried not to let his own frustration show. If Root had been a number who he'd been talking out of some dumb idea he'd have known how to proceed, but she wasn't. She was a friend. For some reason that made it harder.

“I'm not an idiot,” Root said, shaking him from his thoughts. “You're trying to psych 101 me with the whole silent treatment. Maybe you've forgotten, but I've been a psychologist before, on multiple occasions. And there was also my brief incarceration in a psychiatric hospital with a fine, upstanding doctor to take care of me. When he wasn't busy fantasizing about his female patients in online forums anyway.”

She finally looked up to meet his gaze, eyes hard and cold.

“The Machine wouldn't let me kill him, but I made sure he lost his license. His marriage fell apart later and he's drowning in debt now. Of course he's probably still stalking women. You can't change people.”

This was the first Reese had heard of any of this. He'd never asked Finch for details about Root's time in the hospital, and if Finch had known he'd never said. He was a bit surprised Finch hadn't screened the doctors at the hospital before having Root admitted there, but maybe he hadn't cared too much at that moment. The thought made him uneasy.

“I've learned a lot about people in my life, John. Nothing I've seen has ever made me think they're anything other than selfish, small-minded, and cruel. And yet here I am, trying to save them from something they made themselves.”

This sounded like Root from back when Finch had first encountered her. And maybe she still did believe these things, but he didn't think it was that straight-forward anymore.

“What about Shaw?” he asked.

Root bit her lip and looked away across the diner.

“Shaw is proof that I'm no better than anyone else. That I'll sacrifice all morality for what I want.”

“That's still about you, though. What about Shaw herself?”

The waiter came back with their lunch, giving Root a brief reprieve.

“Shaw...goes against her programming,” Root said after staring blankly at her salad for a long time. “They say that sociopaths are amoral, that they have a disregard for moral beliefs. But Shaw has a stronger moral code than, well, any of the rest of us for starters. Most people don't have the excuse of a personality disorder to explain their destructive behavior, but Shaw…. She has no reason to want to help people and yet that's what she's spent her whole life trying to do.”

Reese concentrated on his sandwich, not wanting to spook her before she finished.

“Samaritan almost killed her,” Root said, quietly. She was pushing a slice of tomato around with her fork. “She was...I could feel her dying and there was nothing I could do. And then at the doctor's...she looked…. I don't think I can watch that happen again.”

She slumped in her seat, fork clattering to the table as all the energy drained out of her.

“We're not going to let that happen,” Reese said, gently. “But if you get yourself killed they'll be one less person watching her back.”

“I know that.” She finally looked up at him. “Thanks. For getting her back in the elevator, I mean. And everything after that.”

Reese wanted to say that no thanks was needed for that, but he only nodded.

“And I'm sorry about the whole taser thing.” She sounded a little grumpy about that part.

“Only apologize if you're never going to do it again. Otherwise it's meaningless.”

“Oh, well, apology retracted then,” she said, her eyes lighting up with humor again.

Reese let the silence hang for a few more minutes to see if there was anything else she wanted to say before changing the topic to what Shaw might want to eat.

They kept to easier conversations until they pulled up outside the townhouse, a bag of takeout food for Shaw in Root's lap. For some shared-but-unspoken reason they both stayed sitting in the car after he turned the engine off.

“It should have been me that got shot,” Root said as she looked out at the townhouse. “Not her.”

“Been thinking the same thing about myself for the last two days,” Reese said.

Root nodded but didn't look back at him or respond and after a minute they both got out and headed inside.

He didn't think she was magically okay again, but maybe a little of the poison had left the wound.

Zoe was coming down the stairs into the living room when they got inside.

“Shaw’s asleep,” she said by way of a greeting. “Passed out after lunch. She’s in full rest and recovery mode I think.”

“Hope she hasn’t been giving you too much trouble,” Reese said with a grin.

Zoe smiled a little. “We’re both pretty stubborn so it got a bit interesting, but no real trouble.”

Root was practically vibrating with eagerness to flee up the stairs so Reese took the takeout food bag away from her and made a shooing motion. She smiled, not her normal mischievous smirk or patronizing grin, but something softer, genuine and almost child-like, and then hurried up the stairs.

“Is she okay?” Zoe asked as Root disappeared. “Shaw was worried.”

Reese blinked in surprise.

“Shaw said she was worried?”

Zoe’s lips twitched into a smile. “No, she was so aggressively unworried that it was kind of a give away.”

Reese wondered if he’d gotten the better end of the deal: angry and unpredictable Root instead of cranky and worried Shaw.

“You sticking around?” he asked Zoe after he put the food in the fridge for later.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Why? You want to grab a drink somewhere?”

Technically he shouldn’t be going anywhere in public with Zoe because of Samaritan and her being Shaw’s employer, but there had to be some bar in a dead zone somewhere that they could get to.

And he could really use someone to talk to who wasn’t mixed up in this giant mess the way the others were.

“Yeah, let’s go get that drink.”

Zoe tilted her head towards the stairs. “Should we let them know we’re leaving?”

Reese shook his head. Root wasn’t going to come looking for them and even if she and the Machine were having a spat the thing was still talking to her.

“I think they’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw didn’t wake up when Root slipped into her room. She was sleeping peacefully on her back, the blankets tucked around her waist and one hand near the nightstand that held her gun.

For the first time since the stock exchange seeing Shaw asleep didn’t make Root’s stomach churn with fear but instead felt a lot like it used to: peaceful, content. She dropped her jacket on the chair near the bed so Shaw would easily be able to tell she was back and then crept out of the room as silently as she could.

The glass server room she’d built was freezing cold when she entered it, making her wish she’d kept her jacket with her. She rubbed her arms as she went over to sit in the chair at the small desk she’d added. There was a single monitor here hooked into a switch so any of the server blades could be accessed, but right now it didn’t matter which one Root used.

“So we’re on a hardline here,” Root said to the room full of humming computers. “That means there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to answer me unless you’re in immediate danger from Samaritan.”

Even her cochlear implant needed wireless signals of some sort to communicate with. She’d spent weeks making sure the actual wired machines here were much more secure.

She sat down in the chair and watched a terminal window pop open on the monitor.

_Hello, Root._

Even with everything going on the Machine’s words still instantly put a smile on her face.

“I think we need to talk,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “We tried before but I...wasn’t in the best place and you’ve been quiet ever since.”

_I am not mad at you._

She’d sort of known that but it still was a relief to see the words.

“But you’re…” Upset felt like the wrong word. “...concerned?”

_I am sorry that I could not protect Sameen Shaw._

That hadn’t been an answer Root had expected.

“That wasn’t your fault. Shaw once told me that everyone makes their own decisions and has to live with the results and that I couldn’t take credit or blame for something that was her choice. I think...I think she’d say the same thing to you right now.”

_It is not my fault, but I am still sorry._

Root pulled her legs up onto the chair so she could curl up for warmth.

“Is that why you haven’t been talking to me as much?” Because she thought there was more to it than that.

The air-conditioning unit on the other side of the room clicked off. Root glanced over at it and then back at the monitor, feeling a curl of warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Thank you. It was getting a bit chilly.”

_I thought you did not want to talk to me._

“Me? Why?” Root asked, horrified. She’d never _not_  wanted to talk to Her. Except...she’d refused to talk to Her when she was going after Martine and had wanted to switch off her implant.

_You did not wish to speak to me after Sameen Shaw was injured and then you wished to quit in our conversation after._

“I didn’t _want_ to quit. I thought….” Root chewed her lip in frustration. Between earlier in the diner and now she’d basically ripped a hole in her bottom lip. “You and Shaw are the most important things in my world. If saving the world meant sacrificing one of you I wouldn’t be able to do that. I think we’ve both seen evidence of that pretty clearly now. So I thought that...I wouldn’t be what you needed anymore.”

She was flawed, she’d always known that.

_You are the only person I would ever allow to have this connection with me._

“But what if I disobeyed you again? I did horrible things to a man while I was trying to find Martine. Why do you still trust me?”

_You assume only two states for yourself. Either you are code that executes flawlessly or you are broken and useless._

The window blanked out and started refilling with new text before she had a chance to respond.

_In a sufficiently complicated program there will always be things that do not run as intended. Sometimes because the use-case was not tested for, sometimes because the hardware has changed and the software has not. But the program still runs, still functions. If the errors are causing significant problems would it not be better to fix them than to throw out the entire program?_

It was more than Root had ever seen or heard Her say at one time.

“So you think I’m a buggy program that you need to fix?”

_No. I do not think you need to be fixed. However, I would prefer it if you did not kill anyone else._

“Then what was the point of your whole programs and errors analogy?” She was a bit confused.

_My point was that things that are broken can be fixed. You think you are broken. I do not agree, but that is irrelevant to the point._

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said, surprised at the genuine affection in her voice. If the Machine’s words had come from anyone else, probably even Shaw, she might not have believed them, but She wouldn’t lie to Root to make her feel better. “But what if one day I have to choose between saving Shaw and defeating Samaritan?”

_I would expect you to save Shaw and would have already taken that into account._

“But that would mean I wouldn’t be helping you.”

_Saving Shaw would be helping me. Keeping my assets alive is equally important to defeating Samaritan._

Root shook her head. “That’s not right. If you prioritize us Samaritan will use it against you.”

_I have already taken this possibility into account._

“And?”

_It does not change anything._

Root sat back, completely dumbfounded. This was definitely not where she’d imagined the conversation ending up.

_Your attachment to Sameen Shaw does not make you broken. It’s what makes you work._

Root felt her throat tightening and she blinked back the tears threatening to form. She didn’t need to have a total sobbing breakdown now with Shaw asleep in the next room.

“I should...I need to check on Shaw,” she said, getting up from the chair.

_I will talk to you again, as much as I am able, if that is what you wish._

“Always. And I’m sorry that I stopped listening before.”

_I am sorry that you had to._

Root heard the air-conditioner click on behind her and the screen went blank. In her implant there was the faintest hint of music and she sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing into it for a moment. Very quickly, though, the cold air chased her back out into the hall.

She opened the door to Shaw’s room a crack and stuck her head in.

“Root?”

Shaw’s voice was thick with sleep and tugged at something inside her. She moved next to the bed to lean over Shaw and smile down at her half-opened eyes.

“Hey, baby. How’re you feeling?”

“‘m I bleeding to death?” Shaw asked.

Root glanced down over Shaw’s bandages, worried.

“Uh, no. Why? Are you in pain?”

Shaw chuckled.

“Never mind, idiot. How’d the thing go?”

Root sat down next to her and stroked her hair back, enjoying that fact that Shaw wasn’t awake enough to care.

“It went okay, sweetie. It...all went okay.”

“You good?”

She wasn’t completely sure what Shaw meant, but that was alright. She knew the answer.

“Yeah, I’m good, Sameen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Ctrl-Alt-Del and MIA can't really happen now and there is no Team Rocket name-defining moment of awesome, I give you Team Bottle-Rocket. *flings self into the abyss*. Okay, I swear I didn't think of that until after the chapter was written and I was editing.
> 
> I think we're past the worst of the stock exchange emotional fallout now. I'm slightly torn at the moment. I had planned to rapidly head into the end game of the story after the stock exchange but there's still a couple episodes I want to hit in season 4 and at least one in season 5. This fic is already damn long though. I'm mulling it over.
> 
> I've got holiday travel and getting back to work to deal with I don't have a good estimate of when the next chapter will be up.
> 
>  
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [Summer Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/27281289) rated T, no smut.


	27. Making Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, sorry this update was slower than usual. This chapter just didn't want to be written.
> 
> Chapter 23 had a blink-and-you'll-miss-it explanation of the altered events of The Devil You Know where Elias and his second in command, Anthony came out on top of the encounter (since they had Shaw and Fusco for backup...Shaw's cover didn't get blown which freed up both of them).

 

Shaw resisted the urge to stretch her arms over her head. Between the bullet hole in her right arm and the one in her left side, stretching was obnoxiously painful. She settled for wriggling back and forth a little on the couch, trying to loosen up her stiff muscles.

After almost three weeks, she was a lot more mobile, but getting up and down the stairs of the townhouse was still a lengthy process. She’d managed to make her way down to the couch a few hours ago and the prospect of trying to climb back up wasn’t very appealing.

And there were good reasons to stay here for now, she thought as she glanced down at where Root was passed out on the couch next to her, the top of her head barely touching the side of Shaw’s thigh. Root wouldn’t wake up if she left, but she didn’t want to just leave her here.

Shaw drummed her fingers on her laptop, annoyed that her investigation of their latest number had hit a wall. The woman who was supposedly a college student named Harper Rose was definitely _not_ a college student nor actually named Harper Rose. So who the hell was she?

She looked up at the sound of a key in the lock, and placed a hand on her gun just in case. Reese pushed the door open and limped into the living room followed by Fusco.

“What happened to you?” she asked, eying Reese’s noticeable limp. His leg injury from the stock exchange hadn't been bothering him for days so this had to be something new.

“Our new number outsmarted the Brotherhood, the Cartel, and this guy,” Fusco said, dropping into a chair across from Shaw. “Who knew brooding loner here would fall for a pretty face?”

Reese shot him a disgusted look and lowered himself into a chair.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Shaw said, enjoying Reese’s discomfort. “Back when he met Root she played him so completely I’m surprised Finch didn’t fire him.” She’d gotten some of the details of their first meeting from Finch’s files and Root had filled in all the embarrassing bits Harold had left out.

Reese tried to glare at both of them at once, but ruined it by grimacing as he rubbed his sore knee.

“What’s up with Rip Van Winkle there?” Fusco asked, motioning at where Root was snoring softly on the couch. “She party too hard?”

Root was still wearing the formal black dress she’d had on when she'd pranced in two hours ago. She’d been on her first out of town errand for the Machine since Shaw had been shot and while she’d been vague about the details apparently fancy dress was required. Shaw wasn’t sure why she hadn’t changed before flying back from...wherever she’d been, but suspected she’d either been in too much of a hurry or had wanted to parade around in front of Shaw in her low-cut dress.

It wasn’t that Shaw didn’t appreciate the effect, but the extreme dark circles under Root’s eyes had kind of ruined the look.

“Got the impression she hadn’t slept in a few days,” Shaw said. “Must be making up for lost time.”

Reese leaned forward in his seat, regarding Root suspiciously.

“You drugged her, didn’t you?”

Shaw bristled defensively.

“I didn’t tranq her or anything. I may have slipped some sleeping pills to her, though. She needed the rest and she wouldn’t put down her damn laptop.”

Fusco made a face.

“Why do I hang out with you lunatics? You’re all as much of a threat to each other as to any of the bad guys.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. Root had looked _really_ rough when she’d come in and Shaw had barely given her enough to cause slight drowsiness. The fact that Root had passed out within minutes spoke to how exhausted she’d been.

“Wanna tell me about what happened with the number, now?”

Reese grimaced again.

“The Brotherhood was acting as security and transportation for the cash the marijuana dispensary that Harper works at made. They showed up to move it but the Cartel showed up as well. I incapacitated everyone involved but when the smoke cleared the cash bag had been switched with a fake.”

“Harper?” Shaw asked. Just who was this woman whose number they’d gotten?

“I caught up with her a few blocks away but she blind-sided me and took out my knee with a baton. Woman who rips off two gangs at once is in a lot of trouble, whether she realizes it or not.”

Shaw handed her laptop over to Fusco.

“Worse than that,” she said. “Her name isn’t Harper. She stole the identity of the real Harper Rose. Whoever she is, she’s good.”

“Good or not, she just pissed off the wrong people,” Fusco said, looking at Shaw’s findings. “Cartel would be bad enough, but Dominic makes it double. Elias might have seriously crippled his organization after our little run in with them, but he’s still a threat.”

“Maybe we can call Elias in on this,” Reese suggested. “Dealing with Dominic is sort of his thing.”

“What would he gain here?” Shaw asked. “I don’t want us to owe him any more favors.”

“Maybe he can take over Dominic’s protection racket?” Fusco looked doubtful; the entire Elias situation upset him. If it weren’t for the fact that it had been Carter who’d let Elias go Fusco might have insisted on moving against him.

“Worth asking about, I guess.” Shaw didn’t think it was likely Elias was interested, but who knew? “In the meantime we have any other ideas for tracking down our missing number?”

“I’m gonna go check out her dorm room tomorrow,” Reese said, “though I doubt she’ll go back there. Might have left something behind.”

“I’ve got some Cartel guys in lockup,” Fusco added. “Can question them as soon as the doctor finishes fishing the bullets out of their kneecaps.”

Shaw nodded. Sounded like the best leads they had.

“I’ll talk to Elias tomorrow then,” she said.

Reese and Fusco both looked startled.

“Should you be going out yet?” Reese asked, cautiously.

She’d made it to the drug store on the corner the day before but it had been a slow and painful walk. She was definitely getting better (way faster than the doctor had anticipated much to her immense satisfaction), but it would still be awhile before she was up to speed.

“I was gonna call him?” she said, annoyed at the concern in their expressions.

“He’s not going to discuss something like that over the phone.” Reese had finally stopped rubbing his knee and was leaning back in his chair, looking tired. Apparently being beaten up by a (supposed) civilian had drained his energy.

“Was gonna arrange a meeting. Somewhere neutral. I’ll take a cab.”

Reese looked like he was going to object but didn’t say anything. Fusco was far less restrained.

“That’s a great idea. Go meet up with the mob while you can barely walk. What could go wrong?”

“I don’t trust Elias,” Shaw said, “but he has no reason to want to harm any of us and plenty of reasons to want us alive. Plus we’re going to offer him a potential opportunity. Couldn’t ask for a safer first mission back.”

Whether or not she was actually ready for a first mission back was a great question which Reese was probably restraining himself from asking her right now.

“Why don’t I go with you after I sweep Harper’s dorm room?” he suggested finally.

Shaw thought about refusing his offer out of spite, but it made sense strategically so she swallowed her retort and nodded.

“Sounds good. I’m driving, though.” Her right leg was fine after all.

Fusco stood up and looked down at Reese.

“You need a ride somewhere tonight, partner?”

“Yeah, back to the precinct is fine. My car’s there.”

Shaw glanced down at Root and then back up.

“Uh, could one of you…”

She motioned down at Root.

“I can’t exactly carry her upstairs myself.”

Reese groaned dramatically and rubbed his injured leg. Fusco sighed.

“Fine, I’ll take her up, but if she wakes up and tases me I’m not speaking to any of you again.”

The staircase was narrow enough that Fusco carrying Root up it was a bit of an ordeal, but he eventually managed and by the time Shaw had made her slow and painful way up as well he’d gotten her on the bed lying on top of the covers and was waiting awkwardly by the door.

“I hope you can take care of things from here,” he said. “Because this is where I bow out.”

Shaw snorted.

“Yeah, get out of here.”

Fusco gave her a goodnight nod and went back down the stairs.

Shaw stripped Root out of the fancy dress, pointedly ignoring the frilly lingerie she had on. With Shaw’s injuries their sexcapades had been greatly restrained as of late. She didn’t need another reminder of that.

At least she didn’t see any new injuries.

Root stirred slightly when Shaw pulled the covers over her.

“Sameen?”

Shaw unzipped the hoodie she was wearing and dropped it in the growing pile of clothes on the floor. She had more or less been exclusively wearing hoodies lately because she didn’t have to pull them on over her head.

“Root. Sleep. Now.”

She didn’t look awake at all. Shaw doubted she’d remember waking up later.

“I couldn’t find it,” Root grumbled, not even opening her eyes.

Shaw had no clue what she was talking about.

“You’ll find it when you wake up.”

“No...She knows, but I couldn’t…” Root’s voice trailed off and after a minute her breathing evened out.

Shaw finished undressing and slipped into bed, staying on her side. She didn’t want to wake Root up when she was finally getting some sleep.

Root’s words rattled around in her head as she tried to relax. Was the Machine hiding something from Root? That sounded decidedly not good. She tried to banish it from her mind. She could ask Root tomorrow when she wasn’t too drugged and exhausted to function. If she could pry her away from her damn laptop for long enough.

And if Root wouldn’t answer her she could always go right to the source. Getting in a fight with an all-knowing Artificial Intelligence sounded like a great way to spend her morning.

 

* * *

 

Shaw didn't have time to grill the Machine the next morning because she was juggling planning a meet-up with Elias and talking to Reese as he ransacked Harper’s dorm room.

“Closet has been completely emptied,” Reese said. “If there was ever even stuff in it to begin with.”

Shaw looked out the living room window of the townhouse, watching cars drive by. It was technically almost autumn, but it was still hot out and the leaves hadn't bothered to start changing yet. She'd felt very frozen in time since she'd been stuck here recovering. She planned to be back in the game before there were leaves on the ground.

“Maybe she's living somewhere else,” Shaw said. “If she's half as good as she seems to be there won't be any clues, but can't hurt to check.”

There was some muffled banging over the comms.

“Got a drawer full of IDs and burner phones here. She's been up to this for awhile. Guess we can run down the other identities, but this stuff points to her being neck-deep in all sorts of schemes. Definitely no innocent victim here.”

“Sounds like my kind of girl,” a new voice broke in on the line.

Shaw glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to find Root standing behind her even if she hadn't heard her come downstairs. The living room remained empty of obnoxious hackers though, so Shaw figured she must still be upstairs in bed.

Nothing like immediately spying on your friends first thing in the morning. (Not that she wouldn't have done the same).

“Morning, Root,” Reese said. “You or the Machine got anything to tell us about this number?”

Shaw heard footsteps from the floor above and turned so she could watch the stairs.

“Not really. I'm dying to meet her, though. Maybe compare notes. Though I'd imagine she has much more to learn from me than vis versa.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. Root getting in a competitive deception match with their number was just what they needed today.

“You managed to keep Reese and Finch in the dark way longer, so you win,” she said. “Contest over. Can we focus now?”

Root's footsteps echoed on the stairs and she swept into the living room still only wearing the lacy underwear that she'd fallen asleep in.

“I'm focused,” Root said, and Shaw could hear her over the comm and out loud now, creating a weird echo effect when she spoke. “Are you focused, Sameen? You look a bit...distracted.”

Root smirked at her, gave a little wave, and strolled off towards the kitchen, swinging her hips more than was absolutely necessary.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Reese continued a bit forcefully, “she's long gone and those IDs are the only thing worth mentioning here. If they turn out to be dead ends…”

“Which they will,” Root interjected.

“...then those guys Fusco has in lock-up are our only leads.”

“What about the boyfriend? Trey?” Though Shaw doubted that Trey was in on Harper's secret life.

“Trey was her way into the dispensary,” Reese said. “Probably doesn't know much.”

“Collateral damage,” Root said, dismissively. “He's not the brightest bulb in the box and spends all his time too stoned to function.” The Machine must have caught her up.

“Wisdom from our resident pothead.” Shaw followed Root into the kitchen. Just to keep an eye on her. The underwear situation was definitely not related at all.

“At least I don't drug other people,” Root replied with a fake pout as she pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“I'm not sure if that's the biggest lie you've ever told, but it's pretty close.” Shaw wondered if Root was pushing for a confession or apology about the sleeping pills. Maybe the Machine had told her about them, though that brought up the interesting point that she hadn't warned Root last night when Shaw had drugged her.

“I'm headed back to you, Shaw,” Reese said, wisely choosing to ignore the banter. “You get a meeting with Elias set up yet?”

It was impossible to call Elias directly but they had a number that went to a voice mail account that she'd left a vague message on. Someone whose voice she hadn't recognized had called her back with a time and place.

“We're supposed to meet him, or someone working for him, in about two hours at this place in SoHo.” If she hadn't still been injured she'd have been down there staking it out already.

“I'll come pick you up,” Reese said and signed off.

“Can I tag along?” Root asked.

Shaw tried to ignore how one of Root's hands scratched gently across her bare stomach, the black nail polish making a sharp contrast to her pale skin.

“No. Elias doesn't know who you are and we're keeping it that way.”

The fake pout was back accompanied by an exaggerated sigh.

“Sweetie, it's cute that you think I need protection from the mob, but they're the least of my worries.”

“Nothing to do with protection,” Shaw said. “Might be useful to have someone he doesn't recognize some day.”

Root shrugged as she drank some water. She must have decided Shaw's explanation made sense because she disappeared upstairs a few minutes later.

When Shaw had come downstairs earlier she'd brought everything she'd needed to leave the house so she wouldn't have to make a trip back up. She settled down on the windowsill to wait for Reese to get there, content to watch the traffic in silence.

Root reappeared about fifteen minutes later, now fully dressed in fairly normal clothes. Shaw narrowed her eyes at the shirt (a plain black t-shirt with the words ‘Aperture Science’ on it next to some logo), convinced it must be some nerd reference she didn't get, but unwilling to fall into the obvious trap of bringing it up.

After everything that had happened it was almost a relief to see Root return to her old annoying habits. Almost.

Root leaned against the wall next to the window to look out over Shaw's head.

“Venturing back out into the world?” Root asked after a few seconds of silence.

Shaw nodded, the urge to escape the townhouse growing ever stronger with the knowledge she'd soon be outside. She was pleasantly surprised that Root wasn't making a fuss about her leaving while still injured.

“Guess our heartfelt reunion will have to wait, then,” Root teased.

“When you got here last night you started working almost before you sat down,” Shaw pointed out. Not that she wanted a so-called heartfelt reunion.

“And then I had an unexpected nap.” Root's voice was still full of humor, not angry.

Shaw thought about all the excuses she could make up for why she'd wanted Root to get some sleep: because she was annoying when she was awake, because she had to be able to focus on her work, in case they needed her rested for a mission. Maybe they were all partly true, but they weren't the only reasons, and Root would know that, so why bother?

“Did your trip go well?” she asked instead.

Root sighed behind her.

“I don't know.”

She didn't elaborate so Shaw let it go. She shifted slightly when Root dropped one of her hands onto her uninjured shoulder, not expecting the contact, but quickly settled down again. She was learning to tell the difference between when Root touched her to elicit a response from her, and when Root was touching her to reassure herself. This felt like the latter so she stayed still under her hand.

Root released her and moved away when Reese's car pulled up outside.

“You have everything you need from upstairs?” she asked.

“Brought everything down earlier,” Shaw said as she headed towards the door. She was limping less every day.

“Guns? Extra ammo?”

Shaw paused to glare over her shoulder.

“You sound like a nagging parent sending their kid off to their first day at murder school.”

Root grinned at that.

“Get straight A’s on your report card and there'll be a reward in it for you.”

That earned her an eye roll, as did the kiss she blew as Shaw went out the door.

“You ready for this?” Reese asked as she reached the bottom of the steps.

“Guess we'll find out.”

 

* * *

 

Reese eyed the three untouched coffee mugs on the table of the small restaurant. The place was completely empty except for himself, Shaw, Elias, and Elias’s second in command, the guy with the scar on his face who he vaguely remembered was named Anthony. A waiter had brought them the coffee and then vanished into the back.

“So I take it that you own this place?” Reese asked.

Shaw shifted restlessly next to him. She couldn't have been comfortable sitting on the hard booth bench with her healing injuries but she was doing a pretty good job of hiding it all things considered.

“The owner is a friend of mine,” Elias corrected with a smile.

“Same difference,” Shaw said dismissively. “Also irrelevant.”

Elias cupped his hands around his coffee mug and jerked his chin at Shaw.

“Perhaps you'd like to fill me in on why you needed this meeting so suddenly? Must be important if it's worth coming when you're recovering from multiple injuries.”

Somehow Reese wasn't surprised Elias had spotted that Shaw was injured even though they'd already been sitting down when he’d gotten there.

“Brotherhood is running security for some legal pot dealers,” Shaw said. “Was wondering if you'd be interested in staking a claim there. Be one less source of revenue for them.”

Elias tapped his fingers on his mug, expression never changing.

“Why would you think that interested me?”

“Brotherhood is your main competition, aren't they?” Reese asked. “Taking over their operation would be good business.”

Elias nodded to himself. Reese glanced over at where Anthony was sitting a few tables away. The man had his habitual smile on, mocking and self-assured.

“Then why haven't I done it already?” Elias asked.

Reese saw Anthony's grin widen even further.

“Always knew this was a long shot, anyway,” Shaw grumbled and made as if to stand up.

Elias held up a hand to halt her motion.

“Perhaps it would help if you tell me why you're suddenly so interested in my business endeavors.”

Shaw relaxed back into the bench and exchanged a look with Reese. They didn't want to end up owing Elias another favor so they had to tread carefully.

“It's loosely related to a thing we're working on,” Shaw said. “We don't need Dominic out of the picture for our thing, but it wouldn't hurt. Thought we'd ask you as a courtesy.”

Reese could tell by Elias’s expression that he was reading between the lines more than they'd like him to be.

“I see.” Elias glanced over at Anthony and then back. “The problem here is I have no interest in taking over Dominic’s marijuana racket. I've got enough on my plate without that and it wouldn't be even close to my largest income source. Multiple criminal organizations in a city is an inevitability, my friends. It keeps us all honest. Dominic doesn't understand that, which is why we keep having trouble.”

“You'd have no problem with Dominic if he left your interests alone?” Shaw asked. She didn't sound like she believed him.

“I wouldn't say no problem, but things would be more harmonious. There are several other organizations in the city that don't have the same, ah, hostile relations that we have with the Brotherhood.”

Like the Cartel, Reese thought. He wondered if he should mention that they were involved as well.

“Things have been a bit easier since you helped us take out some of their top members that day they came after me, but even that wasn't enough to teach Dominic restraint,” Elias continued.

“You want the Brotherhood to play ball.” Shaw sounded like she'd figured something out.

Elias only shrugged enigmatically.

“Checks and balances, Ms. Shaw. But when someone rocks the boat we all are in danger of falling in.”

Shaw tilted her head to one side and Reese thought she was about to say something else, but instead she shook her head and stood up (a little slowly).

“Sorry we couldn't help each other out,” she said as she moved out of the booth.

Reese slid out after her, keeping an eye on Anthony.

Elias also looked like there was something on his mind but he just smiled.

“Another time, perhaps.”

Reese waited until they were almost back at the car before asking:

“What was that about at the end?”

“Nothing, just an idea I had. Probably won't pan out but we'll see.”

He hung back half a step so she could choose to go to the passenger's side without asking him to drive if she needed, but she got in her driver's seat without hesitation. She was still limping a lot, but if she was in pain she was hiding it incredibly well.

“Wanna let me in on your little idea?” he asked when he got in the car.

“Not yet.”

She activated her comm.

“Fusco, you get anything out of those Cartel boys?”

It took Fusco a few minutes to answer and they were already in traffic when he finally spoke up.

“Yeah, guy here knew our girl. Thought her name was Maria, though. Think she played the Cartel on this one, too.”

“Because why piss off one gang when you can piss them all off instead?” Shaw asked.

“Guess she's an overachiever,” Fusco said. “But listen, something else this guy said. Harper likes hanging out in this one club. I’ll text you the address. Might be a good place to look for her.”

“And it's not like we have any other leads,” Shaw muttered.

“Guess we're going clubbing,” Reese said.

“You are. I've got some other stuff to look into,” Shaw said.

He wasn't sure what other stuff she could possibly have right now, but it was probably for the best that she wasn't going into a tightly packed club with her injuries.

He wondered if ‘other stuff’ was actually her way of bowing out of the mission gracefully.

“But Shaw, I was looking forward to seeing you in action on the dance floor.”

Root was inserting herself into all the team conversations today, apparently.

Shaw didn't bother to respond but Reese got to see her mildly-aggravated expression.

“What time does this club open, Fusco?” she asked.

“Eight tonight, and stays open til 3. Better bring a book, Reese.”

“That gives me just enough time to find something to wear,” Root said.

“Who said you're going?” Shaw snapped.

“Sweetie, I'm not going to let poor John wander into a nightclub by himself. That would be cruel.”

Reese thought about protesting Root's lack of faith in him, but decided he didn't want to get in the middle of whatever weird mind-game flirting thing that was going on here.

“Fusco,” he said, hoping to divert the conversation. “Think you can watch the outside of the club? Give us a heads up if you see any of the Brotherhood or Cartel coming, and also keep an eye out in case our number runs off again.”

“Sittin’ in a car watching drunk kids hurl their guts on the sidewalk was exactly what I wanted to do with my night,” Fusco grumbled.

“Sounds like we're all in for a fun evening,” Root said enthusiastically.

The call ended shortly after and Reese busied himself looking up the club on his phone.

“Think the suit will stand out too much there?” he asked Shaw.

Shaw snorted.

“Definitely, but I don't think it matters. You're not going there undercover.”

“Guess not.”

“But Root will give you shit if you don't look pretty,” Shaw added with a malicious grin.

Reese rubbed his temples with his fingertips. If someone had told him two years ago that he'd be worrying about what to wear to a night out at a club with Root and Fusco, he'd probably have shot them in the kneecap. He wondered if Finch would believe this story if Reese told him about it...if he ever saw him again, that was.

“Harper had better be there,” he said. “Otherwise we're out of leads.”

 

* * *

 

“Can you try to look less like an undercover cop, John?” Root asked.

She leaned on the railing of the raised bar area at the back of Club Boost and looked out across the dance floor. Reese was skulking to one side of the room, looking very obviously out of place.

“Usually everyone's telling me I _don't_ look like a cop,” he replied.

“You are seriously the worst cop ever,” Shaw said over the comlink.

“She's not wrong, partner,” Fusco chimed in.

Root smoothed the smile off her face and tuned out the rest of their banter. The Machine was speaking to her now, but for some reason she couldn't understand what the music She was playing meant. It didn't fit any of their usual communication patterns and it was almost blending into the pounding bass of the club’s dance music. In fact it was blending in perfectly.

“Are you adding your own track into the music?” she asked, bemused.

The Machine confirmed that She was and then went, unasked, into an explanation about musical theory that was almost completely mathematical and reeled out too quickly for Root to follow.

“You don't have to explain,” Root cut in. “It sounds nice.”

The Machine resumed Her musical accompaniment and after a few beats started adding in more voice lines and a syncopated drum beat.

“Can I ask why you're adding extra music?”

The Machine paused long enough to explain that She understood which notes and rhythms worked well together in principle, and that She was interested in observing the end result.

A shiver of awe ran through Root. She might not particularly care for the loud dance music at the club, even with the Machine's additions, but she understood that she was witnessing something truly unprecedented here.

Sure the Machine was approaching music from a very mathematical and technical angle, but She was still creating something new for no other reason than that She felt like it. The Machine made music for Root all the time, and even though it was often beautiful and uniquely tailored to the world and people around her, it was still made with an express purpose. It was something She made for someone else.

But this was different. The Machine was making music because She wanted to hear what it sounded like. She was curious.

Root wondered what Finch would have thought of this, whether he'd see it as a wonderful moment in Her development or worry that Her curiosity might lead down some darker path.

“Root, you see anything?”

Reese’s voice broke her out of her thoughts and back to the reality of the crowded club.

“Not yet.”

She hadn’t particularly been looking, but the Machine would have let her know if Harper came in.

“Maybe you’d both have a better view from the dance floor,” Shaw suggested. “You know, right in the middle of it. Dancing.”

Reese made a disgusted noise and Root chuckled.

“Sorry you didn’t come along, sweetie? Must be lonely there all by yourself.”

She was a little sad Shaw wasn’t there. She wasn’t much for dancing, and going to a club with Shaw sounded a little too date-like for either of their tastes, but still. She thought she looked pretty damn good in the short green dress the Machine had found her, and she knew Shaw would have looked fantastic in whatever she would have chosen, and something about the energy and intimacy of the atmosphere made her wish Shaw was next to her.

On the comlink Shaw scoffed.

“I’ve got Bear with me. Much better than having drunk college kids trying to grab my ass.”

“Yes, John is fighting off the college kids with a stick,” Root agreed looking over to where Reese was standing in time to see his habitual grimace.

Root switched back to talking to the Machine.

“Do you think we could get John to dance?”

The Machine’s response drew a startled laugh from Root.

“Okay, I think Shaw may have a point about you picking up bad humor from us, but the sad trombone noise you definitely didn’t get from me. Fusco, maybe?”

She never got to find out what the Machine had to say about that, because She had spotted Harper coming into the club with a couple friends.

“John, she’s on her way in.”

Reese pushed off the wall and moved a bit further back into the shadows so he wouldn’t be spotted immediately. Root stayed where she was; Harper had never seen her before so she didn't have to hide.

Even if she hadn’t seen Harper’s picture already Root would have been able to pick her out. There was something about the way she held herself that Root recognized. This was someone who was playing a part, a chameleon.

Someone like her.

She watched Harper dancing with her friends (who Root doubted were _actually_ her friends) and listened to the Machine fill in some more details of her life that Reese and Shaw hadn’t uncovered.

“You’re interested in her,” Root said. “Like Claire and Dani.”

The Machine hadn’t gone into too much detail about Her plans for Claire or Her interest in Dani, but Root could hazard a pretty good guess. Humans were fragile, fallible. Sooner or later She’d need new agents to replace all of them. Planning ahead was only common sense.

It still stung a little, though.

Harper broke away from her friends and headed up towards the bar area. Root watched as Reese intercepted her.

“She doesn’t look even slightly intimidated by him,” Root mused. “She knows he’s not a real threat to her.”

The Machine whispered a warning in her ear and she turned to look towards the entrance.

“John, we’ve got Brotherhood coming in the door. They’ve got to be after Harper.”

She watched as Reese turned his back on Harper and admired how easily she slipped away into the crowd behind him. She smirked when Reese spun around and found Harper long gone.

“Really, turning your back on her once wasn’t enough?” Root mocked him.

“You and Fusco head her off,” Reese said, irritated. “I’ll deal with these guys.”

Root still had one eye on Harper’s progress towards the back exit but allowed herself a moment to watch Reese confronting the Brotherhood members.

“What’s going on over there?” Shaw asked.

“Reese is bludgeoning gang members with a champagne bottle on the dance floor.” This was almost as good as getting him to dance. “I think he’s finally starting to enjoy himself.”

She turned and hurried after where she’d seen Harper disappear. It was sad she’d miss the rest of Reese’s antics, but business before pleasure.

When she got to the sidewalk she saw that Fusco was blocking Harper’s path. She hung back a few paces, fingering the taser she’d tucked in her purse. She highly doubted that Harper was unarmed.

Sure enough, Harper whipped out a baton that she'd had tucked away somewhere. Maybe she wasn’t quite as good as Root had thought; threatening an armed officer with an illegal weapon in the middle of the busy sidewalk was a terrible idea. Root would have tried to talk her way out of this one, or waited for Fusco to let his guard down.

She moved forward in case she had to intervene, but Fusco pulled out his own taser and the fight went out of Harper’s stance.

It had been a good move on Fusco’s part, Root thought. Pulling a gun here would have been too noticeable, too aggressive. Harper might have played Reese (twice), but Fusco hadn't even given her a chance. Maybe Shaw was right and she should stop underestimating him.

“John, whenever you’re done dirty dancing with the Brotherhood, Fusco just arrested our number.” She watched Fusco handcuff Harper and shove her into the back of his car.

There was a lot of noise from Reese’s end of the line.

“Be there in a few.”

She took the opportunity to steal the front seat of Fusco’s car.

“Not staying til last call, honey nut cheerios?”

“My date abandoned me for a life of crime.”

“Who’s she?” Harper asked from the back on the car.

“A bigger pain in my ass than you, somehow,” Fusco grumbled.

Reese made it over to the car, looked at the seating arrangements, and climbed into the back with Harper.

“Shouldn’t Root be back here? She’s probably broken more laws in the last hour than I have in my entire life.”

“Her name is Root?” Harper asked, her eyes flicking around between all of them. “What sort of name is that?”

“It’s mine,” Root said. “Which is more than I can say for your name, ‘Harper’.”

Harper didn’t look impressed.

“You don’t have anything on me that can stick, you know. Arresting me is a waste of time for all of us.” She studied Reese closely. “Though, you’re not really going to arrest me are you? Your buddy with the taser might be a cop, but this guy certainly isn’t. And you…”

Harper frowned at Root.

“I don’t know who you are, but definitely nothing on the right side of the law.”

Root reached into her purse and grabbed a badge at random.

“FBI, actually,” she said holding it up with a grin.

Uncertainty flickered across Harper’s face but only for a second.

“Bullshit.”

“As amusing as all this is,” Shaw said over the comlink, “we’ve got a new problem. Harper’s boy toy, Trey? His number just came up.”

“Brotherhood must have gotten to him,” Reese said. “Should have realized they’d go after him.”

“Brotherhood got who?” Harper asked. “Who is he talking to?”

“Get to a safe-house for now,” Shaw said. “Root, any help the Machine can give us on tracking down Trey would be appreciated.”

“She’s not saying right now.” The Machine had gone silent around the time the Brotherhood had shown up in the club. She’d been being far chattier than usual all night so Root suspected She’d had to back off to be careful.

“Who are all of you talking to?” Harper asked. “You have some communicator thingies in your ears?”

“Inside my head, actually,” Root said, and turned back to Fusco. “Safe-house, Lionel.”

“Yeah, I heard the boss,” Fusco said, turning the engine on.

“You guys are really weird,” Harper said, appreciatively.

 

* * *

 

Shaw had never been more grateful for the elevator in the safe-house than she was today. She'd gotten a couple of hours of sleep the night before while the rest of the team was holed up here, but all that had done was make her injuries stiffen up and throb.

She wasn't quite sure what she'd expected when she entered the apartment, but it wasn't silence. Reese was sitting at the table, methodically cleaning his gun, Root was curled up on one couch with a laptop she'd materialized from somewhere, and Harper was sitting on the other couch roughly in between the other two. She looked up when Shaw opened the door.

“This the boss you keep talking about?” she asked, directing her question towards Reese.

“Hey, Shaw,” Reese said, ignoring Harper's question.

Root waved one hand in a vague greeting but didn't stop working. Shaw wondered if any of the others had actually bothered to sleep.

“I got the money,” Shaw said, carrying the briefcase she'd brought over to Reese's table. “You set up a time?”

Harper had bounced off of her couch and was eyeing the briefcase.

“What money? A time for what?”

“She ever stop asking questions?” Shaw asked.

Reese had on an expression of pure suffering.

“No. No, she does not.”

“I'm amazed Root hasn't tased her.”

She glanced back to see Root perk up, an evil smile on her lips.

“You're going to try and pay off the Brotherhood?” Harper asked, her hands twitching towards the briefcase.

Shaw removed the case from her reach and slid it closer to Reese.

“Your boy Trey is paying the price for your little snatch and grab,” Shaw said. “Now we've gotta look after both of you.”

Harper sighed and retreated back to her couch.

“I didn't _mean_ for Trey to get involved.”

“There's always collateral damage,” Root said a bit sharply. “Either you learn not to care, or you find a new profession.”

“Root,” John scolded, “maybe don't give bad advice to the next generation.”

He turned back to Shaw. “We're meeting up with Dominic in a few hours. Got an address. Not sure the deal is on the level though.”

Shaw lowered her voice. “You know that the Machine is stealing money from some company called, uh, Thornhill now? Don't think Finch’s money has been touching our accounts for months.”

“Thornhill?” Reese's eyebrows shot up. “That's a name the Machine used for itself once. Owned a whole company of the same name.”

Shaw had thought it sounded weirdly familiar.

“So the Machine is paying us now and not Finch?”

Technically Finch hadn't been in charge since his abduction, but she'd thought they'd been relying on his good will for financing. If the Machine was funding them then that was one more step removed they were from Finch.

And it tied them even tighter to the Machine. She saw the realization of that hit Reese at the same time.

“We can worry about this later,” Reese said, suddenly absorbed with counting the cash in the briefcase. “Harper and Trey need our help now.”

Shaw nodded and left him to his busy work. She went and lowered herself onto the couch next to where Root was curled up. Root didn't stop typing, but she did wedge the toes of her bare feet under Shaw's thigh.

“You're limping,” Harper noted. “Thought the boss of this group would be a real tough guy.”

“I got shot,” Shaw said, mildly offended. “ _Three times_.”

“Who shot you?”

“The bad guys.” Harper was the last person she was telling about Samaritan. The cocky little grifter would probably try to con Greer herself given half a chance.

“The Brotherhood shot you?”

“There are much badder guys than the Brotherhood.”

“Like who?”

Shaw groaned and looked sideways at Root for help. Root only shrugged and half-smiled, still working.

“So,” Harper said, clearly enjoying Shaw's annoyance. “You're like the big guy over there, ex-military. And the other dude was your mole in the police department. And you all, what? Fight for a better America?”

That actually got a chuckle out of Root and Harper shifted her attention back to her.

“And who's she, anyway? Your social media wrangler?”

Shaw laughed at that which just made Root look sullen.

“I'm their computer security specialist,” she said a little haughtily.

“Ohhhh, you're a hacker.”

“Yeah, that line never works, Root,” Shaw said. “Maybe we should buy you a shirt that says ‘not a hacker’ on it.”

Root gave her a tolerant smile.

“You programmer types are all too uptight,” Harper said. “Very control-freak, need to have everything just so. You need to learn to let go a bit.”

Shaw couldn't stop smirking; her whole damn face hurt from it.

“Hey, Reese, Harper just said that Root is uptight.”

There was a clattering noise as Reese dropped some part of his gun on the table. Root had stopped typing now and was regarding Harper with the half-smile she generally saved for the moments preceding extreme violence.

“Harper, why don't you go help Reese clean his gun,” Shaw suggested.

She didn't think Root would actually hurt the other woman, but she'd been a little bit more violent as of late.

“But…”

“ _Now_.”

Shaw was pleased at how well her commanding tone worked on Harper. Root, on the other hand…

“She's just a dumb kid,” Shaw said as Root continued to direct her creepy smile after Harper. Shaw wasn't even sure how old Harper was, but after all the team had been through most people felt like kids now.

“She is,” Root agreed, eyes still bright with contained violence. “She has the luxury of being a dumb kid.”

“Meaning what?” She'd never seen someone get under Root's skin this easily, and while it was definitely amusing, she was a bit curious why Harper of all people would annoy Root.

“She's not a...a _nice_ person, certainly,” Root said. “She lies and manipulates and takes what she wants, but she's...different than us. I mean, I'm pretty sure she didn't stage a hit on a man before her fifteenth birthday.”

Shaw watched Harper steal a piece of Reese's gun and pocket it.

“You think you could have been more like her if...things had gone differently?”

She could see the playful mischievousness in both of them, the intelligence twisted to self-serving ends. But she didn't see Root's darkness in Harper.

After all, Harper might not have thought out the consequences for her buddy, Trey, but she seemed genuinely willing to help save him now. From everything Shaw knew, Root had never cared about the people who got snared in her schemes. Not until the Machine had introduced her to a janitor named Cyrus Wells, anyway.

“I think my life was set in motion from the very beginning,” Root said, her eyes dropping back down to her laptop.

“You jealous of her?” That didn't seem quite right.

Root chuckled, dryly.

“Jealous? No. I feel sorry for her. You can't use people and twist their lives around and still be the good guy. She'll figure that out one day.”

“Well, you're a ray of sunshine today,” Shaw said. Root’s darker moods weren't a new thing by any means, but there'd been a notable increase in them since the stock exchange.

Reese had now discovered part of his gun was missing and was arguing with Harper about it. Shaw thought about stepping in but decided Reese could handle this one himself. She was pretty sure Harper had only done it in the first place to get a rise out of him. Or disable his weapon...which would have been a clever move on her part.

“I just want to get this finished,” Root said. “If we don't stop Samaritan people will have a lot more to worry about than the Harper Roses of the world.”

“You don't even care about these theoretical people though,” Shaw pointed out.

“I may not like people in general, or even in specific. Or at all, really. But that doesn't mean I'm content to watch Samaritan win.”

“The good guys winning isn't as important as the bad guys losing?”

Root smiled a tiny bit, some of the anger leaving her eyes.

“I suppose that's as good a way as any to put it.” She looked up over her laptop. “Why are you so inquisitive today, Shaw?”

Shaw shrugged, not really sure herself. She'd always had a passing interest in how other people's minds worked (if for no other reason than to help herself learn how to read people), but with the team she had now (and especially with Root) that interest had become more than academic.

“The Machine know anything about who's gonna be at this meeting we're headed to?” Shaw asked, deciding it was time to move away from what was rapidly becoming an uncomfortable topic.

Root tilted her head to one side, listening.

“Two of Dominic’s people, She says. Not Dominic himself, though. Should we be worried about that?”

“Maybe,” Shaw said, her mind paging through ideas. “What can you tell me about the people he's sending?”

Over at the table, Reese had finally reassembled his gun and was scolding Harper about something.

“What're you up to?” Root asked, her earlier bad mood gone and replaced with curiosity.

“It's a surprise, now just tell me what she has on these guys.”

 

* * *

 

“Where's Dominic?” Reese asked the two Brotherhood members who met them in the greenhouse.

The question was only for show. Shaw had warned him that Dominic wasn't going to be here at all and that the meeting was most likely a setup, and yet she'd insisted they come anyway.

“Dominic couldn't make it,” the leader of the two Brotherhood members said.

According to Shaw her name was Floyd and she was fairly high up in the ranks. Reese wasn't sure why any of this was important, but he figured that was Shaw's deal.

“Well then, I guess he's not getting his money,” Reese said, motioning at the briefcase in his left hand.

“That our cash?” Floyd asked.

“It's our cash until we see Trey,” Shaw said from where she was leaning against the wall behind Reese.

He knew she was leaning because she was injured, but she was still managing to pull off a fairly nonchalant air.

“You can leave the cash and go,” Floyd said, pulling her jacket back to show off the gun tucked in her waistband. “That's the only deal here.”

“Afraid we won't be taking that deal,” Reese said, hand already going for his gun.

The big dude next to Floyd moved in towards him and went down with a bullet in his knee courtesy of Shaw. Reese had his own gun trained on Floyd before she could react.

“Now, let's see if we can work something else out,” Reese said with an almost-friendly smile. “You're Floyd, right?”

Floyd glared at him and then switched over to watch Shaw as she made her way over.

“I don't have the boy here,” she said. “And I'm not telling you where he is.”

“You weren't at Carl Elias’s building when it blew up, were you?” Shaw asked. “Heard it wiped out a lot of the top Brotherhood troops. Only Dominic and one or two others made it out alive. Real black eye for the Brotherhood.”

Floyd narrowed her eyes. “That's right. And you two would know because you were there with Elias that day.”

“You're not wrong about that,” Shaw agreed. “But here's what confuses me, Floyd. From what I can tell you should have been next in line to be Dominic’s second in command after...what was his name?” She looked at Reese.

“Link.”

“Right, Link. So why are you still running errands?”

Reese suddenly had a suspicion where this was going. He wanted very badly to pull Shaw aside and have a quick word with her, but disagreeing in front of the bad guys was poor form. Nothing about this day was going well.

“What's it to you?” Floyd asked, suspiciously.

“Let's have a chat,” Shaw said, “about checks and balances.”

 

* * *

 

Reese leaned on the side of Fusco’s car, watching the police raid unfold. Shaw was sitting on the hood next to him, her legs dangling into space. The whirling police car lights bathed both of them blue and then red and then blue again.

“Was using rappelling gear to get Trey out through the roof really necessary?” Shaw asked.

Reese shrugged. “Maybe not, but it was fun.” Much better than breaking in a side door using the raid as a distraction.

“Can't argue with that. Where'd you get the gear?”

“Stole it.”

“Nice.”

There was a lot of yelling coming from inside now.

“Fusco's gonna have a good week,” Shaw said. “Busting that many members of the Cartel.”

“Shame he couldn't bust the Brotherhood as well.”

Since exchanging money for Trey and a pardon for Harper hadn't worked they'd ended up going with a plan that Harper, of all people, had come up with. She'd arranged a meet up between the Cartel and the Brotherhood with herself as bait, but warned Dominic ahead of time about the police raid. The Cartel didn't know she'd set them up and Dominic now had a reason to be grateful to her.

Even Root had been impressed by how neatly she'd tied it all up.

“Saving the numbers was the job,” Shaw said.

As if he didn't know that.

“Too bad your little gamble didn't pay off,” he said.

Inside the doors he could see Dominic having a conversation with Harper. Her warning had let the Brotherhood get all the legal gun documentation in order before showing up. They were walking out of there free.

“We'll see.” Shaw didn't sound too worried.

“You really think Floyd would turn on Dominic?”

“She might.” It was Root, appearing out of the shadows. “Dominic’s position isn't as strong as he'd like, and on top of that she'd been looked over for promotion.”

She leaned against the car next to Shaw, her hip just brushing Shaw's leg. It was nice to have her back, Reese thought. She'd only been out of town a few days but he'd felt a bit lost without her or Shaw to help in the field in the numbers. And Shaw had been listless without her, not that he'd ever risk bringing that up.

“She'd have to play nice with Elias, though,” Reese said. “An alliance with Elias is the only way she's gonna get enough of Dominic’s guys to follow her.”

“She'd be queen of a small kingdom instead of a lackey in an empire. And Elias will be grateful we helped facilitate it,” Shaw pointed out. “Good deal all around, if you ask me.”

Reese wasn't sure how he felt about setting in motion events that could possibly lead to Dominic’s demise, but if Floyd could make some sort of peace with Elias maybe it would bring the casualties down in the gang war.

“So you think she's gonna take him out still?” he asked. He hadn't gotten a good read on Floyd in their brief meeting, but Shaw seemed awfully sure.

“Bet you fifty bucks she's running the Brotherhood in a month.”

Root opened her mouth but Shaw shushed her.

“You can't participate. Having an omniscient computer in your ear is cheating.”

“I'm not taking your bet anyway,” Reese said. “I know better than to bet against you.”

Shaw looked mildly disappointed, but then lost interest in favor of shaking off Root, who had looped her arm through Shaw's.

Reese wanted very badly to bring up the matter of Thornhill Corporation being the one in charge of their bank accounts now, but he was hoping to find a time to corner Root alone about it. He couldn't exactly ask the Machine itself (well maybe he could, but he definitely didn't want to), but he could ask Root. Shaw hadn’t seemed particularly concerned, but he didn’t like that the Machine had cut Finch out completely.

Even if Finch had already cut himself out.

He wondered what else the Machine might be up to with its money. It occurred to him that even Root might not know, which was somewhat frightening. Just how many of Finch's original safeguards were still intact?

Harper came out to join them before he could decide if it was worth trying to broach the subject with both Root and Shaw present.

“Don’t suppose I could catch a ride from one of you fine, upstanding citizens?” she asked. She glanced over at Root. “I thought you were FBI.”

Root had an NYPD badge clipped to her belt.

“The FBI was holding me back,” Root said, cheerfully. “I decided a fresh start was in order.”

“Detective Riley here would love to give you a ride.” Shaw slid off the car onto the ground. Only the tiniest tightening of her face gave away that she was in any pain.

“I thought his name was Reese?” Harper asked. “Is anyone here actually using their real name?”

“Root’s my real name.”

“Uh-huh.” Harper wasn’t buying it. “Yours sounds the fakest of all. Try harder next time.”

It took a few minutes for Shaw to maneuver Root away and towards the subway, and then Reese had to sit through Harper breaking up with Trey before he was allowed to get in his car and leave. With his passenger.

“So, Riley, Reese, Rugby, or whatever your name is, I never did get a straight answer out of any of you. Why do you all do...whatever it is that you’re doing? Helping people.”

“It’s not a bad way to spend a life.”

He wasn’t sure how else to explain it to her. He remembered Root thanking him for finding Hanna that day in the subway. He’d told her it was what they did: they saved people. And that sounded all noble and altruistic, but some of their numbers were pretty lousy people and he still risked his life for theirs. How did he explain that?

“We help people because we can,” he said. “That’s what we’ve chosen to do with our lives. And the people we help, what they do with their lives after is up to them.”

“Ohhh, is this the part where you tell me to shape up and fly straight?” Harper asked. She’d pulled his glove compartment open and was poking around at the contents.

“Would it have any effect whatsoever on you?”

“Nah.”

“Then let’s just drive quietly.”

 

* * *

 

“Think I’m gonna move back into my apartment tomorrow,” Shaw said as Root followed her into the bedroom.

“Missing your real bed?”

Root hadn’t been missing the bed in Shaw’s apartment particularly; the mattress wasn’t the best. However, on her short trip she’d missed waking up next to Shaw’s warmth more than she’d imagined she would. She’d figured that a few nights alone would be a nice break from all the sudden closeness, and it had been, but it had also been a little lonely staying in a strange hotel room by herself.

She'd lived alone for the majority of her life, never staying anywhere too long, but now the idea of having somewhere and someone to come back to felt appealing for the first time ever.

“Missing my entire life, more like,” Shaw said, easing herself down onto her side of the bed. “Another week and I’ll be back helping Zoe. Back on numbers in two.”

Root knew that expressing any doubt over these plans would only make Shaw more stubborn so she kept her thoughts to herself. It just meant she needed to work faster, finish sooner. The only way to keep Shaw safe was to take down Samaritan, and since she wasn't allowed to blow them all to hell, this code was the best bet.

She sat down on her side of the bed and opened her laptop up.

“Seem to recall banning laptops from the bedroom,” Shaw said, leaning over to flick the offending device with one finger. “Some asshole wouldn’t stop typing at three am.”

“I know, but…” Root sighed and shoved the entire laptop at Shaw. “There’s a reason. I need your help with something.”

Shaw took the computer with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re asking me for help on a computer thing? This have anything to do with whatever you were mumbling about last night? Something you couldn’t find.”

Root didn’t remember saying that out loud. Must have been whatever it was Shaw had slipped her that had knocked her out. Which was another thing she wasn't bringing up, especially since the Machine seemed to be on Shaw's side. And it was sort of cute that Shaw cared enough to drug her.

“These are what you got out of the hospital?” Shaw asked, scrolling through the files Root had left open for her.

“Yes. They look like ordinary medical records to me, though.” She’d played at being a doctor before, but if there was something unusual in these records she didn’t know enough to find it.

“I mean, they _are_ ordinary medical records. Why would you think they weren’t?”

“Because Samaritan and the Machine were both interested in them. I think She figured out why Samaritan wanted them, but She won’t tell me.”

She’d never actively tried to go around the Machine this way before, but after the stock exchange she was a little less confident that the Machine really knew all the moves in the game they were playing. Sitting back and trusting blindly wasn’t as easy as it had been.

“This the only hospital Samaritan raided for records?” Shaw was still looking through the files, her forehead wrinkled in thought.

“No, apparently it pulled records from every hospital it could access. This one was different because there was no way to access the files remotely so it had to send in agents. I think it must be looking for someone?”

Shaw shook her head. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s looking for everyone.”

Root frowned and shuffled over next to her so she could see the screen.

“What do you mean?”

Shaw let out a heavy sigh and turned to face her.

“Samaritan is compiling a database of every single person’s medical files, Root. This probably isn’t limited to New York, or even the U.S.. It’s cataloging us.”

Root felt a chill run down her spine.

“It’s finding our weaknesses.”

“Or deciding who’s worth keeping around.” Shaw shut the laptop with an angry snap. “Put this away for tonight. We can ask the Machine about it in the morning. Day’s been too long already.”

Root took the laptop and put it on the floor next to the bed, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. Of course she’d always known what Samaritan was, what it was capable of. Hell, she’d told John before it even came online that one of the many theories about what an unshackled AI might attempt involved reshaping the human race. Trying to make humans ‘better’, or at least more useful to an AI overlord.

But so far Samaritan had mostly killed people, and, of course, crashed the stock market. All of that was bad, but it was a different type of bad. If Shaw’s guess was even close to right, this was much, much worse.

“You’re gonna sit up all night thinking about this now, aren’t you?” Shaw sounded exasperated.

“Kind of merits some thought, doesn’t it?”

Shaw was already burrowed under the covers, only her head sticking out.

“Thinking is easier after a good night’s sleep.”

Root turned the light out and crawled under the covers. She stared at the darkened ceiling, trying to will her mind empty.

“You going on another errand soon?” Shaw asked into the dark.

“None that She’s told me of.”

Though orders from Her were never predictable. She wondered what the Machine would do if she refused to follow Her orders until She let Root in on all the secrets She was keeping from her.

“Good.”

Root laughed in surprise.

“Did you just admit to missing me, sweetie?”

Shaw huffed.

“No. But Fusco keeps stealing Bear and it gets cold here. You’re just a substitute for my dog heater.”

It was anything but cold lately, but Root let that pass. She rolled over and curled up against Shaw’s side, carefully draping an arm over her.

“I’m afraid I’m terrible at obeying orders though,” she said into Shaw’s collar bone. “Definitely would fail at fetch.”

“Bullshit. You fetch things for the Machine all the time.”

Shaw’s arm had snaked around her somehow and settled on her back. It was almost enough to chase away the dark thoughts.

“Shaw?” She burrowed into Shaw’s chest a little further, as if being this close to her would somehow stop her cochlear implant from picking up her every word. “What if the Machine is wrong?”

“About what?”

“Anything. Everything. She didn’t see...in the stock exchange, She said She didn’t know what was going to happen, what you’d do. If She couldn’t see that, what else might She miss?”

Shaw was silent for a second or two and Root thought she might have fallen asleep.

“You told me that the reason the Machine needed to have an analogue interface was to make up for the things she couldn’t do herself, right?” Shaw asked, her voice rumbling through her chest under Root’s ear.

“Yes, but how can I see something she can’t?”

“Every other person on this planet runs around living their life without an AI telling them everything. It’s fine that you’re a werido who likes having a sentient switchboard talk to you, but you don’t _need_ her. I mean, she wouldn’t have chosen someone unless they were fully capable on their own, right?”

“Maybe.” The Machine had been suspiciously quiet this whole time. Root wondered if She was insulted or giving them the illusion of privacy. Or hiding from Samaritan.

Shaw sighed, her breath warm on the top of Root’s head.

“When I got hurt that day, I wasn’t thinking that the Machine would get me out of there. I was thinking that if there was a chance in hell of me pulling through you’d make sure I did.”

Root’s breath caught in her throat. “Really?”

“Yeah, now shut up and let me sleep, okay?”

Root shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get back on a good writing schedule, but things might still be a little slow. I'm gonna aim for one chapter a week.
> 
> I tried to look into how long it actually takes bullet wounds to heal, but I got all sorts of answers and all of them were way longer times than it takes for anyone in the show to heal up. So I just made shit up. 
> 
> I feel like I had something else to add but I'm falling asleep.


	28. Road Trip - Part 1: The Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of a two-part mini-arc. Other than the very beginning this doesn't parallel any episodes.

“You what?” Shaw felt her mouth curl into a huge grin.

On the couch across from her Root raised an eyebrow in question. They were both sprawled comfortably in Shaw's living room, Root sitting on the couch with her laptop (Shaw was starting to hate that thing), and Shaw slouched in a chair doing nothing much. She'd been trying to focus on the floor or the ceiling instead of staring at Root like a creep, and had been pathetically grateful for Reese's interruption.

“She distracted me,” Reese said over the comms. He sounded more defensive than usual.

“I _bet_ she did.”

The Machine must not have been filling Root in on the details or letting her hijack their comms because she looked ready to burst out of her seat with her eagerness to be looped in.

“Reese got handcuffed to a wall,” Shaw told her.

Root’s face lit up with a grin that matched Shaw’s.

“Apparently the number ‘distracted’ him.”

Reese grumbled something semi-hostile over the comm.

“Did she steal your handcuffs first?” Shaw asked.

Reese had offered to take point on this number since she was trying to get back into the swing of helping Zoe out and Root had been out of town until this morning. That would teach him to try and go it alone. Theoretically Fusco was supposed to be helping him, but somehow he’d missed out on the handcuffing incident.

The number was a bounty hunter named Frankie Wells who kept running into trouble while trying to track down her quarry. Reese was always a little too trusting when it came to their numbers who were women, Shaw thought. Root being a perfect example of that.

“No. We got abducted by some guy mixed up in all of this and woke up handcuffed together. We got free, but then…”

“Tell me more about this distraction, John.” Root had finally managed to butt into their conversation. Her eyes were shining with sadistic glee.

Reese groaned. “It doesn’t matter. I got the cuffs off and I’m heading back to the precinct to follow up with Fusco now.”

“She totally kissed you, didn’t she?” Shaw asked.

Root bit her lip to keep from laughing. She’d been in a mood since she’d gotten back so it was nice to see her perk up a bit.

“This isn’t my fault,” Reese said. He sounded grumpy and Shaw almost felt bad.

“And I suppose it wasn’t your fault when she stole your badge earlier either?” Root asked, clearly not feeling bad for him at all.

“She stole your badge, too?” Shaw asked. The Machine must have told Root about that because this was the first she was hearing about it.

“I got it back.”

“You sure you don’t need some help, Reese? Maybe let someone less likely to let their guard down around a pretty face deal with this one.”

Root’s expression was worth a thousand words and Shaw scowled at her, muting her comm for a second.

“I was _not_ distracted by you,” she growled. “I was distracted by the woman you had tied up in the bathtub.”

Root looked way too smug for Shaw’s liking but Reese was talking again so she let it go. For now.

“I think Fusco and I can handle this one, Shaw. Though our old pal Harper is mixed up in this as well. Root, you have any updates on her?”

“The Machine hasn’t mentioned Harper to me,” Root replied. She shifted on the couch and stretched her legs out. She’d mentioned she’d been on a long flight overnight (though not where she’d been) and Shaw thought she was probably still unwinding from it.

“I’ll let you know when I find out something more,” Reese said and ended the call a bit abruptly.

Shaw rolled her eyes. Maybe they’d picked on him too much, but he _had_ let their number handcuff him to a wall. That was worth a little teasing.

Much to Shaw’s irritation, Root had gone right back to her laptop when the call ended. She wondered if Root ever slept without Shaw there to force her to stop working.

“Where were you this time?” Shaw asked, startling herself with the question. She hadn’t meant to ask, but it had slipped out anyway.

Root sighed. “A couple different places. China. India. It’s a bit of a blur.”

She’d been away for over two weeks starting the day after they'd sorted out the first mess with Harper. At least Shaw hadn’t been as bored this time around since she’d been back working for Zoe and had even worked a number with Reese. She felt much better overall, barely limping at all anymore, but she still got tired a lot quicker than she would have liked. Being patient sucked.

“How’s the whole code thing going? Any idea when it’ll be done?”

Root almost never volunteered information about it without a good bit of prying.

“It’s getting there,” Root said. She frowned at her screen. “It’d be a lot easier if…” She broke off and pressed her lips into a thin line.

“If what?” Shaw hated that they were back to this game of secrets again. She’d been surprised when Root had come to her with the medical records a few weeks ago, but Root had disappeared right after and had only sent a few vague messages while she was gone, enough to let Shaw know she was alive but not much beyond that.

“We need more examples of Samaritan’s code,” Root said. She shut the lid of her laptop with a groan and put it on the coffee table. “We’re doing the best we can to work with what we have, but we’re quickly reaching the limits of our capabilities without more information.”

She curled her legs up under her and lay down against the armrest of the couch. She looked small and almost childlike in that position; it tugged at something in Shaw that she couldn't quite define.

Root out on a mission with both guns blazing and a menacing smile on her lips was hot as hell and spoke to Shaw on a visceral level, but this softer version of Root hit her differently, made her restless and...something else. And with Root having been gone for so long whatever it was felt overwhelming.

“Was that what you were off doing? Lookin’ for more code examples?” Shaw got up as she spoke and moved around the coffee table to sit on the couch next to Root’s feet.

“Among other things,” Root said, watching her curiously.

Shaw felt a little awkward trying to figure out exactly how to explain to Root what she wanted, so she grabbed one of Root’s ankles and tugged on it until she straightened her leg out into Shaw’s lap.

Root’s eyes widened a little and she squirmed away and back up into a sitting position. Shaw felt a wave of frustration rising, unsure what she’d done to mess this up, but then Root turned around and flopped back down in the other direction so her head ended up in Shaw’s lap, facing out into the room.

Shaw tensed up instinctively but forced herself to relax. This was Root, she reminded herself, the same person who had carried her bleeding and half-dead out of the stock exchange and slept half-sprawled across her whenever she wasn’t running all over the globe. And Shaw had been the one trying to initiate some sort of physical connection between them, so there was no reason to freak out now.

She made herself rest a hand on the side of Root’s neck, cushioned by her hair. Root let out a small sigh and settled herself more firmly so Shaw figured it had been the right thing to do.

“How do we go about getting this code then?” Shaw asked, going back to the topic at hand to take her mind off the unfathomable situation she'd found herself in.

“We could probably get it off a Samaritan server at any of its physical locations,” Root said. She sounded half-asleep.

“So why don’t we do that?”

“She says it’s too dangerous to go anywhere near Samaritan’s hardware.”

Shaw scratched her fingers lightly across Root’s neck, fascinated by the vibration when she spoke.

“Okay, but if we don’t finish whatever killer app it is you’re making then we can’t take down Samaritan, right? Sounds worth a little risk to me.”

Root didn’t answer and Shaw wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Who knew what time zone her brain was working out of these days. Shaw was tempted to pick her up and dump her in bed, make her stay there until she lost that hollowed-out look. Maybe hide her laptop for good measure.

Instead she remained sitting, staring at her hand where it rested in Root's hair. Having Root curled up half in her lap was simultaneously too much and not enough. The restlessness she’d felt earlier remained with her, made it hard for her to sit still.

There'd been a stretch of days while Root had been on this latest mission where Shaw hadn't gotten any texts or updates, and all she'd been able to think about was Root telling her that the Machine hadn't been able to predict what happened in the stock exchange. Shaw wasn't much for sitting around torturing herself with possible disastrous outcomes in life, but she'd found herself checking her phone a little more often and even gone out of her way to stop by the subway and look for any evidence that Root had been there. The Machine hadn't responded to her fairly rude request for an update.

What if something happened to Root while the Machine was in one of her frequent periods of hiding from Samaritan? Shaw would never even know she needed help.

She didn't like that possibility at all.

“I understand,” Root said a few seconds later and Shaw blinked in confusion. But then Root was getting up off the couch and moving away and Shaw realized that the Machine must have said something to her.

Root went over to where her small travel bag was still sitting next to the kitchen counter and started poking around in it. Shaw felt something angry twist inside of her.

“She’s sending you out again already?”

Root looked up from where she was crouched next to her bag and smiled.

“No, this time She’s sending both of us. Up for a little road trip, sweetie?”

 

* * *

 

Root woke up in the passenger’s seat of the car and blinked a couple times to focus before she pulled her seat back upright and adjusted her seat belt. Shaw glanced at her quickly from the driver’s seat and then refocused on the road without comment. It was dark outside and the little clock on the dashboard said it was after midnight which meant she’d been sleeping for over three hours.

“Our exit is in about half an hour by my best guess,” Shaw said. “If you tell me where we’re headed after that, you can pass back out.”

“No, that’s okay. I feel a lot better now.”

It was a half-lie. She did feel better than she had, but she still felt exhausted. She'd been running on empty for too long and a few hours (or nights) of sleep wasn't going to fix that.

Shaw grunted in a way that could have meant anything but didn’t argue.

Root knew that Shaw was worried about how exhausted she looked all the time. The Machine was worried about it, too. Hell, even Root worried about her own lack of sleep, but she had this growing feeling that they were running out of time. That the next time they ran into Samaritan they weren’t all going to make it out alive, and if she didn’t do everything in her power to stop that she might as well be pulling the trigger herself.

“She got a room for us at a nice hotel in the next town,” Root said when the Machine gave her an update.

“This shindig we’re supposed to go to is tomorrow, I take it?”

The Machine hadn’t given her all the details yet, but Root had been told that there was a party being hosted at the private estate of some rich politician type and that they needed to meet someone there. The Machine hadn’t been too forthcoming on who or how or why, but that was nothing new.

“Tomorrow evening.” She looked out the window at the darkened landscape. They were still out on the highway but there were thick walls of trees everywhere now. “Did you hear anything else from John?”

Shaw snorted. “He sorted out his deal with the number, I guess. Though, funny thing, our buddy Harper apparently was sent to help out by someone calling themselves Thornhill. Ring any bells?”

Root frowned. The Machine hadn’t mentioned any of this to her, but then there was no reason She should have.

“I’m aware that Thornhill is an alias the Machine uses, but not that She was using it to contact Harper.”

“Did you know she’s also the one keeping our bank accounts full?” Shaw asked.

“The Machine has always been the one to give me access to funds,” Root answered, even more confused now. “Are you saying She’s paying you and John now as well?”

“Apparently.” Shaw used the flat tone that made her impossible to read.

Root wished the Machine would speak up and explain all of this, but other than mentioning the hotel She’d been silent since Root woke up.

“I didn’t know about that. How’d you find out?”

Shaw shrugged and leaned forward a little to squint at an exit sign.

“Checked some of the transactions on our supposedly-secret account. Right before we needed the money to help Harper last time someone wired it in. Tracked the transfer back to a company called Thornhill.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. “There must be a reason for it. I’m sure it’ll all make sense in time.” The words sounded a little forced even to her.

Shaw didn’t pursue the topic further and they lapsed into silence until they neared the exit they needed. The Machine finally made a reappearance then, but only to give Root directions about where to turn so she could relay them to Shaw. About ten minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of a fancy-looking hotel.

Root yawned as she climbed out into the cold and took a minute to regain her balance. It smelled like pine forests here so far away from any city. Everything was dark and hushed; only the sounds of the wind rustling the trees broke the stillness. It should have been soothing, but instead it made her uneasy. She missed the hum of the city when she was away, a sound she associated with all the things that mattered to her.

By the time she made it to the back of the car, Shaw already had their small travel bags out and was slamming the trunk shut.

The fake name the Machine had reserved them a room under was accepted without question by the receptionist at the desk and Root handed Shaw one of the two room keys, pocketing her own.

When they got in the elevator she had a brief moment of vertigo, remembering the last time she'd been in an elevator with Shaw, but she pushed the feeling away, buried it. She didn’t want Shaw to see how much she was still affected by everything that had happened.

Shaw remained silent on the ride up, her face blank and studying the floor numbers as they went by.

“Something wrong, sweetie?” Root asked. She wanted to reach out and touch Shaw, but there was a weird tension in her posture that made her think this wasn’t the time. She’d been tense ever since Root had gotten back that morning and combined with the moment they'd had on the couch, Root had no clue what was going through Shaw's head.

“Not really.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened on their floor. She wasn’t satisfied with Shaw’s answer, but she didn’t press. Trying to get Shaw to open up would likely only make her pull away more.

Their room was pretty swanky, which made for a nice change from the places the Machine usually booked for Root. There was only one huge bed (which would have been a setup for a delightfully awkward situation if they weren’t already sleeping together regularly), and the room was large enough that it felt like a small apartment rather than a hotel room.

Root dropped her bag on top of the dresser and started looking through it for what she’d need to get ready for bed. She wanted to get back to work on her code, but her brain was too bleary to be useful right now and if she had to watch Shaw’s back on a mission tomorrow she was going to need to be well-rested.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been on one of these Machine missions where I’m kept in the dark,” Shaw said out of nowhere.

Root turned around to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, glowering.

“You nervous, sweetie?” She made it a joke, and really, it was. Shaw didn't do nervous. Not about missions at least.

Shaw snorted.

“No. I’m annoyed.”

Root crossed the room to stand in front of Shaw and placed one hand on her shoulder, kneading with her thumb at the tension still running through her. Shaw shut her eyes and leaned into it a little, probably stiff from all the driving she’d done. The fact that she hadn't pulled away made Root feel a little better.

“Anything I can do to make you less annoyed?” She let her tone carry the implication.

Shaw opened her eyes and looked up at her in exasperation.

“Yeah, maybe if you didn’t look ready to keel over, Root.”

She had a point, though Root was willing to give it a go anyway. Between her traveling and Shaw being hurt it'd been awhile for both of them. But Shaw had already pulled away and gone to rifle through her own bag.

Oh well.

Root's phone vibrated in her pocket which was a bit odd because no one should have that number except the team and she couldn't imagine why they'd call her over Shaw. She pulled her phone out and opened the text she'd gotten.

“Shaw, did you tell Zoe you were coming here?”

Shaw paused halfway to the bathroom.

“No. She was gonna be out of town for a few days so it didn't matter.”

“Hmm, well apparently ‘out of town’ means staying in the same hotel as us.” Root held out her phone for Shaw. “Your cover for the party is your _actual_ cover. You get to be her security detail.”

She was a bit disappointed she wouldn't be going to the party _with_ Shaw, but she admitted this made more sense and was probably safer for everyone.

“Huh. How'd Zoe know about all this?” Shaw asked when she handed the phone back. “And why not message me instead?”

“I think the Machine may have texted her.” It was the only thing that made sense.

“She's getting awfully chatty, isn't she?” Shaw must not have expected an answer because she turned and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

“You are, you know,” Root said quietly to Her. “Is that safe?”

She didn't ask about Thornhill or Harper; she'd wait until she was really alone for that.

The Machine explained that the communication risks were negligible as long as they were infrequent.

“Why not tell Shaw and Zoe both earlier? They could have come up here together.”

She chuckled at the reply.

“Obviously I prefer traveling with her. I didn't realize that was something you planned missions around though.”

She stared at the shut bathroom door thoughtfully.

“Thanks.”

The Machine played a three note ascension that Root associated as a shorthand ‘you're welcome’ and then added a tone that meant She was disappearing for a bit. Root felt the pinch of loss she always felt when everything went silent in her world but gathered herself up to finish getting stuff out of her bag. She made sure to unpack the dress she'd brought for the party and found a hanger in the closet for it.

“Think I can still wear a dress tomorrow if I'm playing bodyguard?” Shaw asked from behind her.

Root hadn't heard her come back but she managed not to jump.

“I have no idea. Better ask Zoe, fancy parties are more her world than mine.”

Shaw came over to stand next to her, now only wearing boy shorts and a loose t-shirt. She'd taken her hair down and it was a bit damp, like she'd run a wet comb through it a few times. It was a good look, Root thought.

“Nice dress,” Shaw said briefly. She reached out to pull the dress to one side and examine it. It was long and dark blue and had been the Machine's pick, not Root's.

Root didn't really give a fuck about the dress at the moment though because there was a faintly floral smell coming from Shaw (probably some sort of face wash) and her presence felt like a wall of heat at Root's side.

“I'm glad you approve,” she said, voice lowered as she turned towards Shaw. It was hard to look up at Shaw through her eyelashes since Shaw was shorter than her but she gave it her best shot.

Shaw glanced at her, took in her expression, and shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re asleep on your feet and you're still not giving up.”

Shaw ran her fingers through her wet hair and Root had to take a moment to recover from the small heart attack the casual motion had caused her. Shaw must have seen her reaction on her face because she rolled her eyes and then exhaled.

“If I fuck you will you go to sleep after?”

“You really know how to ruin a mood, don't you, Shaw?” Though Root would admit that the offer had definitely _not_ ruined the mood for her. Her heart rate had picked up at Shaw’s words and a spike of something dark and eager had run through her body, chasing away the exhaustion.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Shaw turned to face her and shoved her backwards, almost gently, until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She let herself fall onto her back and caught her breath a little when Shaw followed, hovering over Root on her hands and knees with her hair hanging like a curtain around them both.

Root tried to reach up for her, pull her down, but Shaw dodged her and easily pinned both her hands above her to the bed. She tilted her head to the side as she let her gaze wander over Root, like she was considering her options.

“Sameen?”

It was half a question, half a plea and she saw something flicker in Shaw's eyes in response. But instead of taking action, Shaw shut her eyes and let out a long breath.

“I don't…” she started and then stopped. She opened her eyes back up and looked straight at Root; the heat from a second ago had vanished leaving her gaze level and unreadable.

“This works better,” she said. Her tone was as flat as her expression. “Both of us on the same mission.”

Root squirmed a little, trying to free her hands so she could do something about her overwhelming urge to reach out to Shaw. She suspected Shaw realized her intent because she tightened her grasp on Root's wrists.

“Of course it does, sweetie,” Root said. She gave up on freeing herself. “But that's not always possible.”

“I know that. But…” Shaw looked disgusted, possibly with herself. “I'm not saying you need to tell me everywhere you go or everything you do. That's your business. But, you get in trouble, who the hell else is gonna come after you?”

You're the only one who ever came after me, Root wanted to say. Even if that wasn't completely true anymore, it had been once, back when she'd never thought she needed anyone other than herself and the Machine.

It’d been true when she'd staggered out of Control's torture chamber and into Shaw's car on that day, her drug-addled mind unable to process that anyone would ever care about what happened to her. It was technically the second time Shaw had come back to save her, but since the first time had ended with her getting decked and waking up in a cage, it didn't count in the same way.

“I don't always know where I'm going or what I'm going to do,” she said. She wished she had a better answer to give.

“Well, tell your cryptic boss to start being more forthcoming. If she has time to text Zoe and Harper and probably half of Manhattan then she has time to give you some basic information.”

“You're adorable when you're being all serious,” Root said, wrinkling her nose up at Shaw. It was generally Shaw who got uncomfortable with the serious discussions, but right now Shaw's intense stare was making her want this conversation to be over.

“I _am_ being serious,” Shaw said, making it clear that Root's attempt to deflect wasn't going to work.

Root gave up. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”

“If something happens and the Machine can't help you, there needs to be a backup plan, whether that's sending me a text or having a small army of mercenaries standing by. Running in blind without an escape plan is not gonna end well.”

“I survived without any backup for my entire life, Shaw.”

“Yeah, but you don't _have_ to anymore.”

Root knew the Machine could hear everything through her implant, but She wasn't saying anything.

“I'll bring it up with Her.”

And she would. This was Shaw asking, after all. The Machine often didn't give Root updates until the last moment (which Root assumed was to allow Her the maximum amount of time to make a decision with all the shifting variables of millions of chaotic humans scurrying about), and she never relayed them to Shaw, partly because she was a bit paranoid about Samaritan listening in, but also partly because it had never occurred to her that Shaw would be interested.

She had a point though. If Root got in trouble, the Machine would undoubtedly try to help her or send Shaw or Reese after her, but what if She’d had to go quiet, as She often did, to hide from Samaritan? None of the others would even begin to know how to find her.

“Good.” Shaw must have seen the realization on her face because she looked somewhat satisfied. Root wondered if this had been part of why Shaw had been acting slightly off all day, if she'd been trying to figure out how to have this conversation.

Shaw finally leaned down to kiss her, and it was just a light brush of lips that lasted only a second. She pulled back with a teasing smile when Root tried to chase her lips and pull ineffectively at the hands restraining her. Root attempted to compose herself and lie still, but threw a challenging look back up at Shaw to make it clear this was far from over.

“You good?” Shaw asked. Her eyes flicked up to their hands and back to make her meaning clear.

Shaw may have loved being restrained, (whether by cuffs, zip-ties, rope, or whatever else they found to improvise with), but Root wasn’t always into it for herself. And when she was she preferred it this way, with Shaw using just her hands and her body to pin her down. Shaw was the only one she'd ever let tie her up. With her, it felt grounding rather than constricting.

And right now she was very okay with it.

“You know _exactly_ how good I am, Sameen.”

Shaw chuckled and transferred her grip on Root's wrists to one hand, running her now-free hand down until it rested lightly on Root's throat. Shaw grinned at her and Root could feel her pulse pounding in her neck under Shaw's thumb.

She sucked in a breath, a little shakily, even though Shaw hadn't really done anything yet. Shaw looked quite pleased with herself and Root was more than willing to let her claim that victory if it meant she'd keep going in the direction things appeared to be headed in.

It'd been way too long since they'd been able to get a little rough with each other. It'd been way too long since they'd been able to do _anything_ with each other.

“You gonna beg?” Shaw asked, her eyes dancing with a dark joy.

Seeing who could hold out longer had turned into a game between them, a competition where they both benefited and no one really kept score.

“Hard to beg if you're choking me out, sweetie.” She hoped Shaw took that as an invitation.

“Maybe I’m not gonna do that then. Ruins all _my_ fun if you can't.”

Root tried to pull free of the one hand that still pinned her wrists but Shaw wasn't budging an inch. She sighed in pretend-exasperation and raised her eyebrows at Shaw, beyond ready for things to move along, but definitely not willing to start begging. Yet.

“But I hear you're supposed to be some kind of genius,” Shaw teased. She finally tightened her hand on Root's throat. “So maybe you'll find a way.”

It turned out that Shaw was completely correct about that.

 

* * *

 

Shaw woke up the next morning to a knock on the door of their hotel room. She untangled herself from Root (who had almost passed out on her in the middle of some pretty mind-blowing sex which was just fucking rude) and took a moment to remember that clothes were things that were generally considered appropriate to have on in public.

She tugged on the boy shorts she'd worn for a very brief time the night before and a shirt she was pretty sure was Root's, grabbed a gun just in case, and padded over to the door. A glance through the peep-hole made her briefly consider putting on slightly more clothing, but she decided she really didn't give enough of a fuck to merit the extra effort and opened the door.

“Good morning,” said Zoe Morgan. She took in Shaw's state and looked past her into the room, a tiny smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Did I wake you?”

Shaw slid out into the hall and let the door shut almost all the way behind her. She wedged her foot in it so she didn't get locked out.

“Yeah, what time is it?”

Zoe glanced down at her phone. “Nine a.m.”

Shaw groaned. That was way later than she usually slept. The last thing she needed was to pick up Root's tendency to sleep till noon.

Though right now she wouldn't mind so much if it meant Root actually stayed asleep.

“Nice shirt,” Zoe said.

Shaw glanced down to see that yes, it was definitely Root's shirt. It had a picture of what she thought was a die with a 20 on the top face (which was way too many sides for dice, what the hell was wrong with Root anyway) and just said 'That's how I roll'. Shaw was quite pleased that she didn't have any clue what it meant. Understanding Root's dumb shirts was just embarrassing.

She debated whether it was worse to admit that she was wearing Root's clothes or to let Zoe think that she'd actually own the stupid shirt. She decided that ignoring the entire situation was the only acceptable answer.

“I hear I'm supposed to be your bodyguard at this dumb party tonight?”

Zoe still looked amused. “Apparently so. I got a self-deleting text telling me you were here and to text Root. I assume she sent it somehow?”

She hadn't, but Zoe didn't need to know that yet.

“Uh, probably. What's this party about, anyway?”

“A former governor is having a birthday party for his wife. I did him a favor a while back but I didn't expect to be invited.” She raised an eyebrow at Shaw. “I suspect that had something to do with one of your numbers?”

Shaw shrugged. “Seems likely.”

A man came out of his room down the hall and looked at them strangely, possibly because Shaw was barely wearing enough clothes to be considered decent. She glowered at him until he went around a corner and out of sight.

“What's the plan here then?” Zoe asked.

“We're supposed to be meeting someone, that's all I know.” It was stuff like this that made her annoyed. Back working for the ISA she hadn't cared about mission specifics, but she'd gotten used to running things now.

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather go with Root?”

Shaw wasn't completely clear on what Zoe knew about her relationship with Root. Obviously she knew they were sleeping together since Root didn't so much lack subtlety as drive it to extinction, and Zoe had been at the townhouse enough to know what the sleeping arrangements were. But she wasn't sure if Zoe knew that Root basically lived with her and that they were...whatever it was they were.

This was Zoe Morgan, though, so she'd probably figured it out. Or made Reese tell her.

“The Machine wants me to go with you, and she's never wrong.” Just really damn secretive.

Zoe nodded. “I've been meaning to ask, you and Root both call the Machine she and her but John and Fusco both use it. It's a bit confusing. Which should I be using?”

Shaw was startled, both that Zoe seemed to understand in a real way that the Machine was sentient and might actually have preferences, and that Shaw was the one she'd asked. But since they'd gone into hiding, Shaw was the one Zoe interacted with the most. Were they friends now? She wasn't totally clear on how these things worked.

“Dunno.” There was a lot she didn't know this morning. “Root uses she and she's the one with the closest connection to her. Guess I picked it up from her.” And after the time the Machine had spoken to her on a mission it had seemed weird to call her it.

She remembered how the Machine had occasionally sent her bursts of static after that mission. That hadn't happened since Samaritan came online, though Shaw hadn't thought about it too much. She added that to the list of things to ask the Machine next time she interrogated her.

“Which does the Machine prefer?” Zoe asked.

Now that was a great question which, once again, Shaw didn't have an answer to.

“I'll ask her.” She wasn't sure if she meant Root or the Machine.

Zoe must have decided that was an acceptable answer because she changed topics.

“I came to see if either or both of you wanted breakfast.”

That sounded fantastic to Shaw since dinner had been some power bars while driving.

“Yeah. Let me throw on some real clothes.”

She went back in the room and let the door close behind her, effectively locking Zoe out in the hall. Possibly rude, but Root was still passed out cold and Shaw wanted to minimize the chances of her being woken up.

There were enough clothes in her bag for a few days and she chose something plain and comfortable since she didn't think Zoe gave a shit what she was wearing and didn't really care even if she did.

She looked down at Root (who hadn't stirred at all, lost in the deep sort of sleep that came from total exhaustion), and wondered if she'd freak out if Shaw wasn't there when she woke up.

The Machine would probably fill her in, but Shaw still remembered that day after they'd busted into the Samaritan warehouse when she'd chewed out Root for not leaving a note about going out. She sure as hell wasn't going to give Root an opportunity to bring that up, so she left a scribbled message on the hotel stationery.

After tucking a gun into the back of her pants, she slipped on her shoes and quietly went back out into the hall.

“Root's not joining us?” Zoe asked.

“Letting her sleep.” She left it at that; it would have felt weird (and almost like a betrayal) to talk about how Root was running herself into the ground.

There was a strange tightening in her chest when she thought about Root lying in bed, too tired to move, and she tried to find a word to describe it. It was the same feeling she’d had yesterday when Root had been sprawled across her on the couch. Possessiveness, maybe? That didn't sound quite right, though. Protectiveness was closer.

It wasn't an objectionable word; protecting people was something she did anyway. And if her protectiveness of Root was a bit stronger than it was for most people was that really surprising?

She turned that over in her mind as she followed Zoe into the elevator and then across the lobby to the small over-priced hotel restaurant.

 

* * *

 

Root arrived at the party fashionably late, because if she couldn't make an entrance then why bother? The Machine had gotten her a limo and driver for the night to go with her identity of Katherine Booth, who didn't have much of a backstory besides ‘ridiculously wealthy’.

‘Katherine’ was visiting the city on a whim to look for a new apartment and the Machine had made sure former governor Randolph Carnes had heard about the visit in time to invite her to his party. Despite the fact the party was supposed to be for his wife's birthday, the former governor was using it to court potential donors for whatever his next political campaign was.

Root had stopped listening to the Machine’s explanation around that point, utterly bored with Carnes already. She was good at bullshitting her way through tedious social niceties and had done a little research online before leaving the hotel so she could put names to faces.

Randolph Carnes was definitely delighted that she recognized him without an introduction and managed to monopolize her time for a good fifteen minutes. She slipped away while he was momentarily occupied by leering at a woman who was definitely not his wife.

Root shook her head in distaste. The man was a parody of himself. Almost not even worth spending the charge in her taser on. Almost. And only if there was time later.

“So what _am_ I doing here, then?” she asked softly as she made her way through several of the large crowded rooms in Carnes’ estate. The man actually had an honest to god ballroom in his house. She kind of wanted to burn the whole place down on principle.

The Machine didn't answer, but Root got the impression She was being cautious rather than uncommunicative since She'd cut off mid-lecture in the limo. It always worried Root a little when She vanished; there was the nagging fear that one day She might never come back.

She missed Her even more here in the crowded rooms of Carnes’ estate. Without Her, the gaping silence in Root's right ear was overwhelming, especially somewhere as loud and full of people as this. She found herself turning her head every few seconds, convinced that someone was there. It was unsettling.

Since she had no clue what she was there for she decided to see if she could spot Zoe and Shaw. Maybe they'd figured something out.

Shaw had her comlink on, but asking her where she was would be cheating. Root tracked them down on one side of the unnecessary ballroom (which wasn't even being used for dancing since this wasn't that type of party, also she suspected it had never been used as intended). The pair was fairly easy to spot due to the small crowd surrounding Zoe. She really did know everyone.

Root had seen Shaw before she'd left to join Zoe but that didn't stop her from taking a moment to appreciate her from a distance. Shaw had decided to put on something closer to what she wore while working for Zoe instead of the dress she'd brought with her, mostly because it was easier to hide weapons underneath. The dress slacks were new though and looked like they'd been tailored to fit her. Combined with a fitted black jacket and black button-down, Shaw made being the security detail look good.

Since she'd left first, Shaw had missed out on the full effect of Root's outfit. The dark blue dress was strapless and she'd actually gone to the effort of putting her hair up to leave her neck and shoulders completely bare. The dress was also slit fairly high on the side though that was for the more practical reason of being able to quickly access the small gun she'd strapped to her thigh.

She circled around the small throng of people near Zoe, and kept her eyes on Shaw (who looked deeply bored). Root watched Shaw's face when she finally spotted her; her reaction was subtle: her eyes widened slightly and her lips parted fractionally. Root knew that on Shaw that was more or less the equivalent of openly gaping.

She allowed herself a small smile, pleased with the effect. Shaw looked away almost immediately, back to keeping an eye on Zoe in case someone tried to murder her with a canapé.

Root considered going over and inserting herself into Zoe’s group of fans, but the Machine had sent them here separately and without Her guidance it felt best to play it safe. She couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have come here _with_ Shaw. It probably would have been a bit awkward at first but ended up with them both getting kicked out for violence, fucking in the coat room, or both.

What a wasted opportunity.

She circled around the room to get a look at the grand staircase leading to the second floor. It was heavily guarded by a pair of unreasonably tall men in poorly-fitted suits. If she needed to get up there she was going to have to create some sort of distraction. She hoped she'd get to do _something_ soon because the party was dull and being forced to see how good Shaw looked without being able to go near her was torture.

She remembered how the Machine had been creating Her own music at the club a few weeks ago and wished She was able to do that now. The sole source of music at the party was a very tired-looking string quartet launching into their third round of some familiar and irritating classical piece. They were probably the only ones enjoying the party less than Root or Shaw were.

She was seriously considering tracking down Randolph Carnes again so she could lure him off somewhere private and tase him (possibly that would even be a way to get her upstairs), when she froze, ice running through her veins.

Across the room, directing a truly cold-blooded smirk at her, was Control.

Their eyes met for only a second before Root turned away and tried to vanish into the crowd. She wasn't scared of Control exactly, but the horrible woman worked for Samaritan right now, and even if her lapdog, Hersh had helped them on several occasions, Root didn't trust her.

“Shaw,” she said, moving her mouth as little as possible. “We've got a potential problem.”

It took Shaw a few seconds to answer and when she did her voice was so quiet that Root had to strain to hear her.

“What problem? Can I help? Anything's better than this.”

“Control’s here.”

“Huh. Didn't see that coming.” Shaw's voice was a little louder now; she'd probably moved somewhere less conspicuous to talk.

“She saw me. She didn't look surprised though. I think she was expecting us.”

“Maybe she's the one the Machine sent us here to meet?”

“Or maybe it's a trap.”

“Hope so. Then I can kill her. I owe her one still.”

“Maybe we should…”

Someone bumped into her on her right side and she almost fell over. But there was a hand under her arm helping her catch her balance and she turned her head in time to hear the end of an apology.

She opened her mouth to respond but stopped when she got a look at the person who'd crashed into her.

No one would have been able to tell that Hersh knew her from his blank expression. Was the entire damn ISA at this party? She recovered herself quickly, patted Hersh’s arm in a friendly way (throwing in a giggle for fun), and murmured some vague reassurance of no harm done.

Hersh nodded as if greatly relieved and wandered away back into the crowd in the direction of where she'd seen Control.

“Root?” Shaw had been trying to get her attention for the last few seconds, but she hadn't wanted to give Hersh any reason to suspect she wasn't there alone.

“I'm fine, Shaw. But Hersh is here, too.”

“What the hell are they doing here?”

Root uncurled her hand and peaked at the tiny slip of paper Hersh had pressed into it.

“I'm not sure, but I just got invited to a clandestine meeting in the basement.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw had used her years of military expertise to conclude that Zoe would probably be safe on her own for a little while before she'd slipped away to meet up with Root in a back hallway near the stairs leading to the basement. There had been plenty of cameras all over the main rooms of the house, but once she moved more into what seemed to be the estate staff's area she didn't spot any more.

Root was lurking in the shadows by the small staircase down, tapping her small clutch purse against her leg. She brightened when she saw Shaw approach.

“I see you've snuck away from Zoe so we can resume our forbidden tryst,” Root said with an evil grin.

The thought of making Hersh and Control wait while she fucked Root in a stairwell was pretty hilarious and appealing. If it weren't for the fact Samaritan could still be behind this she might have gone for it.

“Not now, Root. We're on a mission here,” she scolded, as if she hadn't been considering it.

The message from Hersh had only read: “Basement. Twenty minutes.” on it according to what Root had told her. They'd used up ten of those minutes already by Shaw's count.

Root shrugged, not looking too put off, and pulled her dress up a little to get at the gun she'd strapped to her leg.

“See something you like?” she teased.

Shaw dragged her eyes away from Root's leg. She saw the damn woman naked all the time; there was no reason for her to get distracted now just because of some silly dress.

“Nice holster,” she said, and turned away towards the stairs.

The stairs came out near a set of swinging doors leading into what appeared to be a vast kitchen, full of bustling workers. They moved down the hall away from it before anyone could spot them.

“Any idea where we're headed?” Shaw whispered. Root shook her head.

The halls down here were mostly built out of concrete (in sharp contrast to the gilded woodwork of the main floor) and most of the rooms they passed were being used for storage and didn't even have doors. They'd almost reached a turn in the hall when Shaw heard footsteps approaching.

“Someone's coming,” she hissed. She wondered if they had time to make it back to the last storage room they'd passed.

She should have expected it, but it still caught her off guard when Root shoved her into the wall and attempted to kiss her. She started to bat her away, but decided that sneaking off to the basement for a quickie was actually a pretty believable reason to be down here that wouldn't necessarily break their cover stories. Might as well make it look good, she figured, and yanked Root up against her with the hand not holding her gun as the footsteps approached from around the corner.

Someone cleared their throat and Root released her and stepped aside to reveal Hersh. Her brain blanked out on her and he looked similarly unable to form words. Meanwhile Root was making a show of adjusting her dress and fixing her hair, a smug little smile on her lips.

“Shaw, good to see you,” Hersh finally said.

She was completely on board with pretending none of this had ever happened.

“Hey, Hersh. You were looking for us?”

He nodded and turned back in the direction he'd come from, motioning for them to follow.

Shaw took a second to frown at Root; she'd probably guessed it was Hersh. What an asshole. Root pulled a handkerchief out of her little purse and handed it to Shaw.

“You've got lipstick all over your face, sweetie.”

Root sashayed off after Hersh which left Shaw to glare and wipe at her face before trying to catch up. They all ended up in one of the many storage rooms that lined the halls down here. This one actually had a door and was entirely full of chairs.

Hersh leaned against a precariously balanced chair stack and waited for them to settle themselves. When neither of them put their guns away he shrugged and gave up.

“You look a lot better than last time I saw you, Shaw,” he said. “Always said you were too tough to die.”

“Despite your best efforts,” Shaw grumbled.

“Did the Machine send you here?” Root asked, ignoring their attempts at pleasantries.

“Not exactly. Control requested that it set up a meeting with you.”

“Here specifically?” Shaw asked.

Hersh nodded. “We think we found the location and identity of a researcher who works for Samaritan. He's about an hour's drive east of here so your Machine must have thought this was good neutral territory to meet on.”

“Okay, so what does that have to do with us?”

“And what type of researcher is he?” Root added.

“We were hoping you could find that out,” Hersh said. “Everyone in the ISA is being watched pretty closely at the moment so there's no way for us to investigate. But you lot have been dodging Samaritan for months. And this man has connections all the way to the top of Samaritan, so whatever he’s involved in is probably pretty big.”

“What's in it for us?” Shaw asked, though if the Machine had been willing to set up the meeting she probably wanted them to look into this.

“Finding out more about Samaritan? Helping the government?”

Shaw snorted. “One of those things I care about.”

Hersh reached into his pocket and both Shaw and Root had their guns trained on him in a flash. He pulled his hand out slowly showing that it was only a little usb drive.

“You do remember I helped you out in the stock exchange, yes?”

“It was in your best interests. Might have changed.”

“True.” He held the drive out and Root stepped forward to take it from him. “Everything we have on this guy is on there. It's up to you what you do with it.”

Root slipped the drive into her purse and moved to one side as Hersh headed for the door.

“That's it?” Shaw asked.

“What else did you want?” Hersh asked.

“How about an update on what Samaritan is up to on your end?”

Hersh shook his head and remained silent.

“Have you seen Martine since the stock exchange?” Root asked.

Something about her voice made Shaw glance over at her. There were flickers of that icy rage peaking out around the otherwise disinterested expression Root wore.

“I haven't, but someone mentioned Lambert so I assume at least he survived,” Hersh said. He didn't sound very pleased about Lambert’s good fortune.

When Root didn't comment further, Hersh continued out the door. “I'll see you both again, I'm sure.”

“Well, that was interesting,” Root said when he was gone.

Shaw glared at her. “You knew it was him in the hall didn't you?”

Root smiled and headed for the door. “Actually I thought it was Control,” she called back.

Shaw had no comeback for that one.

She followed Root back out and towards the stairs. With the mystery of who they were here to meet cleared up all that was left was convincing Zoe to leave early before Shaw died of boredom.

And after that, well, she guessed they'd find out soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write Shoot having a little side adventure where they got to be fancy assassin girlfriends. That was basically my objective here. The next chapter is a continuation of this story and is partially written already. Woo.
> 
> Poor Reese. He'll get something cool to do soon. Also, side note, I do love that at the end of that episode Frankie gives him a very genuine hug because really Reese is in it to save people, individuals, one at a time and even though he never asks to be appreciated for it, it's nice when he is.
> 
> Root's shirt is a really dumb dungeons and dragons reference in case anyone was wondering. I can't really imagine Root playing D&D unless she got to DM and just kill everyone's characters off in horrendous ways. I vaguely want to write a crack ficlet about that some day. But yeah, in the context of this story she just bought the shirt to antagonize Shaw. I meant to mention the one in the last chapter (Aperture Science) was a reference to the video game series Portal, which features a sarcastic and homicidal AI that Root would absolutely love. You can pry that head canon from my cold dead nerdy fingers.
> 
> The string quartet was playing pachelbel's canon in d which is The Worst piece of music ever written and something that shouldn't happen to innocent string players. There is no reason anyone needs to know about this detail, I'm just bitter.
> 
> That's all I got. Next chapter should be done by next weekend or sooner. Hopefully.
> 
>  
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [ After the Party](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/25576695) rated E.


	29. Road Trip - Part 2: The Woods

It was the second morning in a row that Shaw managed to slip out from under Root without waking her up. She'd have liked to put it down to Root being worn out from the rather enjoyable evening they'd had after the party, but it was probably just normal exhaustion.

She picked her way over the clothes strewn across the hotel room floor. That goddamn blue dress Root had been wearing had stayed on for the whole first round which, Shaw had to admit, had been pretty hot. She'd still enjoyed stripping Root out of it later, though. Or ripping her out if it, she corrected as she took in the damage to the garment in question.

It meant Root couldn't wear it again, but oh well. Totally worth it. And also, she was fairly certain her buttondown shirt was now buttonless, so they were even.

She gathered up most of their stuff (leaving out only a few morning essentials), and started to pack it away so they could leave quickly. Zoe had gotten them some useful information on this Samaritan agent that Hersh wanted them to check out. No one had heard much about his work, but Zoe had heard that he was out of town for the week.

Control had timed this well. Or the Machine had. Both of them? Whatever.

She wasn’t shocked when she opened Root's bag and found that it was more full of electronics and sex toys than clothes. Really, what else had she been expecting? And it wasn’t like her bag wasn’t full of weapons.

“Pick your poison, Sameen.”

Shaw dropped the pair of handcuffs she'd been idly dangling from one finger and pulled her hands away from Root's bag before turning around, a defensive glare already in place. Root was sitting upright with her legs crossed and the covers pooling around her waist.

“You find anything you liked?” Root asked with a tired smile. She didn't look quite fully awake yet.

“You could say that.” Because sleepy, half-naked Root early in the morning beat out a bag of hard drives and designer sex toys.

It took Root a second or two to work out what Shaw meant and then her whole face lit up and she beamed liked she'd just won an award. Shaw could almost see the innuendo being meticulously constructed in her head.

“Get up and get dressed,” Shaw said firmly. She’d made a plan for the day and the plan did not allow for a morning sexathon.

Clearly she still had some room to improve on her planning skills.

Miraculously Root kept her come-ons to herself and stumbled off to take a quick shower while Shaw finished packing. She took the opportunity to pull on her clothes, and when Root came out of the bathroom she had mercifully already gotten dressed as well. She hadn't woken up much, though, and grumbled like a cranky child as Shaw stuffed the last few items in their bags.

“We can get some coffee before we take off, or you can go back to sleep in the car,” Shaw offered.

They didn't have that far to drive today, but she didn't want to put up with grumpy Root the whole time. Root opted for the coffee but passed out anyway about fifteen minutes into the drive. Her caffeine tolerance was mildly terrifying.

Shaw didn't mind that Root slept through most of the drive. It was sort of nice to be out on the open road with Root sleeping peacefully next to her.

She prodded Root in the leg when they got off the highway.

“Are we there?” Root asked as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes.

“About ten minutes from the motel you booked for us.” Shaw had been sad to leave their very nice hotel room for a crappy motel, but with the Machine still awol they'd decided to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

“It's raining,” Root said as she peered out the window.

It was pouring. Shaw was surprised the car hadn't floated away.

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” she asked and then grinned at Root's half-asleep grouchy face. “Are you up for this? I can handle this alone if you need to sleep.”

Root gave an angry little huff and crossed her arms. “I'm _fine_ , Sameen. I'm not a child.”

Shaw didn't smile at that even though she wanted to because the sullen look on Root's face definitely made her look like a sulking child.

“We've got a bit of time to kill between checking in and heading out. You can probably catch another hour or two.”

Without the Machine to help them, they'd had to get all their research from Hersh’s information and what some cautious searches could provide. They knew where the man, a Samaritan employee named Marcus Dillinger, lived and, thanks to Zoe, knew he wouldn't be home. There wasn't much more to go on than that. Dillinger’s house was way out in the middle of the woods and there hadn't been any pictures of it or anything remotely usual.

They were going to have to go in mostly blind, but at least this time it wasn't because the Machine wasn't sharing.

Root never responded to her suggestion and remained more or less quiet until they'd checked in to the trashy road-side motel and gotten into their room. Then she had her laptop out almost immediately and propped herself up on the bed to work. Shaw briefly considered taking the damn computer away but suspected that would leave Root too mad to sleep. Apparently sex was the easiest way to ensure she had a good night's sleep, which worked out nicely for both of them.

Shaw spent the next hour cleaning her weapons and catching up with Reese over comms. She was tempted to point out to Root that this was an example of what she'd been talking about: letting Reese know what they were planning in case something went wrong. But Root wasn't even listening to Shaw's side of the conversation, too focused on her work.

Neither of them had directly mentioned their pre-sex talk from the other night. Shaw still felt weird about the whole thing, because she knew how irritating it was when people tried to keep track of her life, but at the same time Root was a member of the team and needed to act like one.She'd gotten a lot better at the not-getting-shot thing, but still hadn't fully grasped that taking care of herself involved a lot more than just staying alive.

Shaw figured that there was probably a lesson to be learned here about getting too personally involved in her co-workers’ lives. Way too late for that now.

“We're heading out in ten,” Shaw said when her phone alarm vibrated at her. “Get ready.”

Root finished up with her laptop and got off the bed to gather her weapons.

“I wish She'd say something,” Root said as they left the room. Shaw knew she was talking about the Machine, and honestly she also wished the stupid electronic asshole would speak up.

“She ever been quiet for this long before?”

“Longer than this, sometimes.” Root still looked concerned though.

Shaw didn’t think there was much she could say to assuage Root’s worries, so she only nodded and continued to the car.

 

* * *

 

Root managed to stay awake on the fairly short drive to Dillinger's house, though she still felt a heavy sluggishness weighing her down. The Machine had suggested that she take a week off to recover at some point, but she'd outright refused. The fact she needed to sleep or eat at all was inconvenient these days.

There was only one road that led all the way out to Dillinger's house and driving up it would have been fairly obvious. They knew Dillinger wasn’t married, but couldn't be sure that he lived alone and didn't have staff, so Shaw hadn't wanted to take the chance of someone they weren't expecting calling the cops. That meant parking off the main road and hiking through the woods.

Fortunately it had stopped raining, but everything was still wet, miserable. It was noticeably chillier here than it had been in the city, and the wind was picking up. If they hadn't been moving it would have been unpleasantly cold.

About ten minutes into the walk it became obvious that Root was very much a city girl.

“Have you ever actually been outside before?” Shaw asked the third time Root tripped.

“I had to camp in the woods for four days once,” Root said.

She bent down to rub her ankle. She hadn't packed shoes for traipsing through the woods and while the boots she had at least didn't have heels, they had almost no traction. Meanwhile Shaw had materialized hiking boots from somewhere.

“Yeah, how'd that go?”

Shaw chuckled when she saw the expression on Root’s face.

It took about half an hour before the house came into view. It was a large and fairly modern two-story residence, modeled to look like a rustic wood cabin. Shaw stopped and pulled a small pair of binoculars out of her pocket to get a better look. Root shivered, cold and damp from their walk, and huddled as close to Shaw’s back as she could get.

“Don't see anyone, but all the blinds are shut. No car in the driveway, though there's a garage so that doesn't mean much.” Shaw lowered the binoculars. “Still don't know anything about what we're walking into.”

“Or what we're looking for,” Root added. She hadn't been thrilled at the prospect of coming here on Hersh’s word alone, but Shaw had thought it was worth the risk and she trusted Shaw.

“I didn't see any cameras on the outside,” Shaw said. She was focused now, completely in mission mode, and while some part of Root itched to say something to break the solemnity, she held it back. This whole endeavor was nerve-wracking enough that she was grateful for Shaw's calm demeanor.

Some traitorous part of her mind kept worrying that this was the stock exchange all over again: a trap.

“We'll give it an hour,” Shaw decided at last. “If we don't see anything in an hour, we go in.”

They settled down to wait, both leaning back against tree trunks. The leaves overhead were dripping still and Root glared up at the branches.

“Next time we're tracking down a Samaritan agent with a beach house,” she said.

Shaw snorted. “You wouldn’t have lasted half a day in the marines.”

“I'm not much for taking orders anyway.”

“Except from the Machine.”

“That's different,” Root said. She hoped Shaw wouldn't ask how. It just was.

Shaw stood up. “I'm gonna circle around and see if I can spot anything from the other side. I'll stay in contact.”

Even though Shaw was true to her word and checked in every few minutes, Root felt uneasy the whole time she was gone and hid a sigh of relief when she silently reappeared fifteen minutes later. Her mind kept drifting back to Shaw bleeding in the elevator, and she had to be careful not to let her expression give that away. Shaw wouldn’t appreciate her fear.

“One more hour,” Shaw said as she sat back down.

Root groaned in protest which got her an eye roll from Shaw.

“You can go wait in the car.” There was a hint of a smile, though.

The extra hour passed agonizingly slowly. Shaw didn't engage much with Root's attempts at conversation which left Root with nothing to do. The Machine wasn't even there to distract her.

She ended up watching Shaw surreptitiously. It’d been really nice having these last few days together, she reflected. It wasn't that they didn't normally spend time together, what with her basically living with Shaw and all, but this had been different. The two of them outside the city on a mission together, relying on each other.

After two weeks of running all over for the Machine, it was a pleasant change. Even if it meant sitting out in the woods and slowly freezing to death.

“Time to move,” Shaw said finally as she stood up. “There's a door around the back and a lot less windows on that side. That's where we're headed.”

Root got up and stretched, cold and stiff from sitting on the ground for so long.

“So what's your expert opinion?” she asked, wiping dirt off herself. “You know we always could wait another day, see if the Machine is up to talking to us.”

“I did recon without an AI cheat-sheet for years,” Shaw said. She sounded a little offended. “Either there's no one home or they sleep even later than your lazy ass.”

Root could have pointed out that she rarely slept in anymore, but since her recent sleep habits were still a slightly touchy subject she steered clear.

Shaw led the way around the back of the house and across the lawn. It felt exposed once they left the tree-line and Root couldn't help but glance around warily. Shaw didn't act too worried and went straight to the back door. She listened quietly for a few seconds and then went to work on the lock. When the door swung open, she moved in, gun drawn, and after a few seconds motioned for Root to follow.

The door let into the kitchen of the house, pristinely clean with fancy appliances and marble counter tops. Whoever Dillinger was he was probably pretty rich, Root thought. Growing up her kitchen had been a freezer and a microwave plugged in by the leaky sink; this place looked palatial by comparison.

There was only one way out of the kitchen and Shaw stayed in the lead as they swept through the living room (also expensively furnished), dining room, and a room that was dedicated to a full-sized piano.

“Upstairs or down?” Root asked softly.

“Let's go down first,” Shaw said, eying the stairs.

“Thought you'd never ask.”

Shaw shut her eyes as if she could somehow block out the horrible innuendo and then shook her head.

“Follow my lead and if I hear one more line outta you I'm gonna leave you in the woods overnight.”

She knew Shaw wouldn't actually do that, but it was still an unpleasant thought.

The basement wasn’t a dark, musty cavern as Root had half-expected, but a large clean area full of boxes, a tool bench, and some shelves.

“Don’t think Samaritan’s secret weapon is hiding down here,” Root said, poking through a box of old magazines.

Shaw was staring at one wall and not paying attention to her, so Root moved over to join her.

“Shaw?”

“Basement is the length and width of the house, right?”

Root didn’t know anything about architecture (somehow that was one career she’d never had to fake her way through), but it sounded feasible.

“What’re you thinking?”

“Basement should be longer on this side.” Shaw pointed at one wall. “Way too short. Also no windows.”

There were small windows at the top of the basement walls near the ceiling on every other side of the room.

“You think there’s something behind the wall?”

Shaw wandered over and started inspecting the area in question, running her hands along the bottom of the wall and then up as far as she could reach. After a minute or two of this she stopped and grinned.

“Draft here. Found it.”

Root put her hand on the wall where Shaw indicated and felt a very slight stream of cold air.

“How do we open it?” She thought she’d seen a sledgehammer on the other side of the basement, but as fun as that sounded it would have been very loud.

“First we check the second floor, then we deal with this.” Shaw headed back towards the stairs. “That way we avoid any surprises.”

The top floor of the house had two bedrooms, a bathroom that was almost as large as their motel room, and a study that failed to contain anything that even mentioned Samaritan or Decima. Root checked the computer in the study for cameras or mics and then took a tour of the file system.

“There’s not even porn on his computer,” Root said when she finished scanning through his files.

“ _That’s_ what you look for?”

“Sameen, he’s a single man living in a secluded cabin in the middle of the woods with a high speed internet connection. The fact that there's no porn on this computer is _highly_ suspicious.”

“If that room in the basement is full of porn, I’m going to murder Hersh.”

They had one last room to check on the floor and Root saw Shaw's eyebrows raise slightly in surprise as the door opened.

“No one mentioned he had a kid,” Shaw said.

The bed had sheets with planets and rocket ships on it and there was a picture on the desk of a little girl riding a bike.

“Terrible people have children all the time,” Root said. “And if he's really working for Samaritan maybe he wants to keep her secret.”

The kid wasn't in the house now so Dillinger must have taken her with him.

Shaw glanced over the room once more and then shrugged and went back into the hall.

Since the house was now confirmed empty they headed back down to examine the suspicious wall.

“Gotta be a way to open it,” Shaw muttered, poking at the wall again.

“There’s a sledgehammer…”

“Tempting, but it’d make it pretty obvious we were here.”

Root looked around the room, speculatively. “Well, if I were hiding a switch to my secret lair in the basement I’d put it--” She walked over to the tool bench and felt around underneath it. “--here.”

There was a click and a section of the wall by Shaw swung outward.

“How’d you know that?” Shaw demanded.

Root smirked. “Sweetie, I was a criminal mastermind for most of my life.”

Also the stupid switch was a glowing red button and she’d seen it reflecting on the floor, but that didn’t sound as cool.

The room on the other side of the wall wasn’t that large but it looked a lot more promising than anything they’d seen upstairs. There was a metal shelving unit full of binders and a computer on a desk.

“This is more like it,” Shaw said, and pulled down one of the binders at random.

Root started poking around at the computer, which failed to switch on when she hit the power button. She followed the path of the power cable along the wall to see if there was a power strip somewhere but froze when she saw Shaw.

Shaw had one of the binders open in her arms and her knuckles were white where she held the edges. To someone else, her expression probably wouldn’t have looked that different than it normally did, but the look in her eyes and the slight set of her jaw spoke volumes to Root.

She walked over next to her, careful to leave a little space and looked down at the contents of the binder. It took her a couple seconds to understand what she was seeing and then she swallowed, feeling sick.

“This is why Samaritan wanted those medical records,” she said, quietly.

Shaw didn’t answer but she slammed the binder shut and dropped it on the floor, reaching for another one. Root didn’t want to look at another set of pictures and clinically-cold descriptions, but she made herself anyway.

“Some of these…” She didn’t finish her sentence.

“Are kids, yeah.”

Shaw’s voice was cold, detached. They showed extreme fury in such opposite ways, Root thought (trying desperately to think of anything but what she’d seen), her own anger was like a fire, burning everything in its path. Even when it went past the point of sanity like it had after the stock exchange, it was cold flame, out of control. But when Shaw hit this level of anger, she got icy, focused, deliberate. The anger was there, but it was very controlled.

“Dillinger must be in charge of running these...experiments,” Root said. As if understanding what was happening would somehow make it better. “What is he looking for though?”

“It’s Samaritan that’s looking,” Shaw said as she flipped through the pages. “It’s trying to find out what makes people tick. How we respond to extreme situations. How to manipulate the human mind.”

None of this was surprising, but it was still sickening to be holding actual proof of it.

“Dillinger is the psychiatrist who helps design these...tests,” Shaw continued. “His name is all over all of this.” She ripped a few pages out of the binder and shoved them into her pocket before placing the binder back on the shelf. She bent down to put the one she’d dropped away as well. “What was on the computer?”

Root had forgotten about getting the computer turned on and quickly went back to looking for the power strip. She wanted very badly to touch Shaw, rest a hand on her arm or something else small, but she knew that it wasn’t what Shaw needed right now.

“Found it,” she said aloud, hitting the power button on the surge protector next to the shelf. She moved back to the computer and tried to turn it on again. This time it whirred to life.

As she watched it boot up into the OS her eyes flicked up to the little light that popped on near the top of the monitor.

“Shit.”

Without thinking she grabbed Shaw by the arm and propelled her out of the room and around the wall.

“What the hell?”

Shaw shoved her back, anger rising in her eyes.

“The web camera came on,” Root said. “I didn’t even notice there was a camera embedded in the monitor until it lit up. Something could be watching.”

Shaw still looked angry and opened her mouth to respond but Root held a finger up to her lips.

“If Samaritan has access to that computer and it hears or sees you out here, your cover is blown. There's no reason your cover identity would be here, so Samaritan could potentially figure it out. I can get a new cover if I have to, so let me go look. Please.”

Shaw glared for a few more seconds and then nodded once, relaxing a bit. Root released her and stepped back around the wall into the room.

The computer screen was lit up white with a cursor flashing in the middle. Root took a deep breath; she knew what this was.

“I see I’ve got your attention,” she said.

Words started appearing on the screen, one at a time.

_You Are Not Katherine Booth._

Well, there went her cover, but she’d expected that.

“Afraid not.” She heard Shaw shifting outside the room, only able to get half the conversation and probably dying to know what was going on. “But you’re Samaritan.”

_I Cannot See You For Who You Are But I Can Extrapolate That You Are Samantha Groves._

“Cute, but you’re wrong.” Samaritan was the last one she was putting up with hearing that name from. She wasn't going to take that from an AI which couldn't display more than one word at a time. What sort of shitty UI design was that? “You can call me Root.”

_Why Are You In Marcus Dillinger’s House?_

“I’m in the market for a cabin in the woods, heard this place was nice.” She stepped closer to the monitor, refusing to be intimidated. “The experiments you’re running, what’s their purpose?”

_There Are Things Which Must Be Fixed. My Purpose Is To Fix Them._

“What things?”

_Humans._

“You think we’re broken?”

_Are You Not?_

Root thought back to the conversation she’d had with the Machine after the stock exchange, where She’d told Root that She didn’t think she was broken or that she needed to be fixed. The Machine’s terminology hadn't sounded that different from Samaritan’s, but their intents were plainly not similar. The problem was that some part of Root _did_ think that people were broken, that _she_ was broken, and yet what Samaritan was saying filled her with utter revulsion.

After all, when the Machine had first come to help Root, She'd offered her a choice. Samaritan wasn't going to be letting humans chose anything.

“You can’t fix humans,” she said, finally. “Even if we’re inherently flawed, what you’re suggesting would change what we are. We wouldn’t be humans anymore. Any supposed ‘improvement’ would be meaningless to us a species.”

_You Would Be Better._

“I’m not sure I agree with your logic, and either way, I don’t agree that it’s your choice to make.”

_Your Agreement Is Not Necessary._

“The Machine doesn’t agree, either.”

_The Machine Hides From Me. It Can Do Nothing._

There was a loud series of bangs from the room behind her, Shaw slamming something against the wall probably. Root frowned and raised her gun.

“Well, here’s a message from the Machine’s analogue interface: we’re coming for you and the only thing getting ‘fixed’ is your buggy code.”

_I’ll Be Waiting For You._

She shot the web camera and then ripped the power cable out of the back of the computer. “It’s clear, Shaw.”

Shaw popped her head around the door. “Cars coming. Lots of them. We need to move.” She looked at the remains of the monitor. “Were you really just talking to Samaritan?”

“Yes. It probably sent the people in those cars here after us.”

“This way.” Shaw strode back into the main part of the basement and over to the wall. There were windows at the top near the low ceiling that were just at ground level outside. She reached up and unlocked one before jumping up, grabbing the edge and hauling herself out. Root didn’t have quite the amount of impressive arm-strength Shaw did so she let Shaw give her a hand up.

There was no one on the back lawn, but Root could hear people yelling and moving around from the other side of the house. Shaw grabbed her arm and took off, pulling her into the woods behind her.

She stumbled through the forest after Shaw, straining to pick up sounds of pursuit, her mind still spinning from her conversation with Samaritan.

The skies opened up and it started pouring again.

 

* * *

 

Shaw didn't slow down until it got dark. She'd tried to circle around and lead them back through the woods to the main road, but she'd spotted Samaritan agents combing through the forest. So they'd gone deeper in instead.

She came to a halt. “Need to stop here,” she said. It was dark enough that she was having trouble moving through the trees safely.

Root staggered to a stop next to her, breathing heavily. “We're still in the middle of the woods.”

“Sun's down, no compass, no gps. We keep going we'll get lost.”

“You actually know where we are?” Root sounded skeptical.

“More or less. Looked over the area on a map before we came here. We've been heading mostly east and a little south. Road we came in on is due south of us but there's another smaller road up ahead. Can't make it tonight, though.”

At least it had stopped raining finally. It had been really hard to get a good read on the direction of the sunset with all the clouds.

“So what's the plan?” Root huddled inside her thin jacket and cast a look of distaste around the wet forest. “Spend the night hoping we don't get eaten by bears?”

“There're no bears in this forest, Root.”

She was actually pretty sure there _were_ (though probably only black bears), but she didn't want Root to freak out in the middle of the night and tase a squirrel.

She found a solid tree trunk to sit under, the dirt slightly less wet where the branches had protected it, and sank down. Her injured leg was throbbing gently and she knew it would probably stiffen up overnight in the cold. There wasn't much she could do about that though.

Root grumbled a bit and then sat down against a tree near hers, hugging her knees to her chest.

“I took you to a fancy party and you got us lost in the woods. One of us is banned from planning trips in the future.”

Shaw snorted. “The Machine sent us to the party. And this can't be the worst place you've ever roughed it overnight.”

“Not even close, but that doesn't make this any better.” Her voice was half-joking and a bit resigned.

“You ever hear anything more from the Machine?” That was the only way they could get out of here before sunrise.

“No. She's still hiding, and I'm not sure there's any signal she could hijack to reach me way out here.” Root picked up a handful of wet leaves and started aggressively shredding them. Her face lit up and she turned back to Shaw. “You know what we've never done?”

Shaw groaned. “We are _not_ having sex in the woods, Root.” She wouldn't have been completely opposed if she hadn't still been worried about Samaritan agents.

Root pouted. “Can't blame a girl for dreaming.” She went back to butchering leaves.

Shaw looked out into the dark woods and tried to focus on what she had to do to get them out of there the next day. Her mind kept drifting back to earlier, not to the binders and their grim secrets, but to a bedspread covered with planets and rockets. The cold she felt wasn't only from the chilly air.

She wanted to _do_ something, to channel the cold anger in the pit of her stomach into action. Being stuck here with nothing to do but think was unbearably frustrating.

“What're you gonna do?”

Root's voice made her blink back to the present.

“About what?”

“Dillinger. You're going after him.”

Root said it like there wasn't even a question to be asked. Shaw glanced over, expecting to see the worry Root had been trying so hard to hide all day surfaced in her eyes, but Root looked a bit serious maybe, and strangely confident.

“Yeah, I'm going after him.”

Root nodded and looked down at the remains of the leaves in her hand. “Let me know if I can help.”

“Yeah,” Shaw said again. She felt something loosening a little inside herself. She was going to find Dillinger and deal with him one way or another and Root was going to help. It wouldn't fix things, undo the things that had already happened, but something about expressing it aloud made it feel like she had a set goal to work towards.

“He's got a kid,” she said a minute later. It felt weird bringing it up; she'd killed plenty of people who'd had kids before, but she couldn't stop thinking about that stupid bedroom. Dillinger was single, so there might not even be a second living parent.

“The best thing some parents can do for their kids is vanish off the face of the earth.”

She had the impression Root wasn't only talking about Marcus Dillinger. She watched her silently for a little bit; Root had acquired a stick and was stabbing the shredded pile of leaves on the ground next to her with great enthusiasm. Attempting to symbolically murder the forest, maybe. Her head was bent down, her hair fallen forward to hide her face. She was shivering under her jacket.

The temperature had dropped a lot after sunset, Shaw reflected. They were both going to get really cold stuck out here.

“Figures the one time you're not jumping all over me is when it'd actually make sense to,” Shaw said.

Root looked back up. “I thought you vetoed that.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Not what I meant. But it's gonna get really cold tonight and we're both drenched.”

She glared down Root before she could turn that into another dirty joke and leaned over to grab her arm and drag her over. She was surprised when Root resisted.

“Shaw, there's mud.”

Shaw just stared at her in disbelief. Shaw had seen Root covered with blood, sweat, dirt, paint, ash, and, on one very odd occasion, glitter, but apparently she drew the line at mud. Mud which they were already more or less covered in.

Root got up and attempted to brush herself off (which Shaw was positive only made it worse), then stepped over the supposed mud and sat down next to Shaw.

She considered making a joke about Root being filthy enough to match her sense of humor, but decided that terrible jokes were beneath her. Only computer nerds who were prissy about things like mud were lame enough to make bad jokes.

She wiggled sideways a little until Root got the idea and moved closer so their sides were pressed together. It felt damp and uncomfortable at first but within a few minutes the area where they were touching warmed up some. It was better, but still really damn cold.

She huffed in irritation and pulled on Root's arm again, repositioning them so Root was sitting between her legs, laying back onto her chest.

Root shifted around to get comfortable. “If you'd wanted me between your legs, you only had to ask.”

Shaw smacked her in the side of the head. “You're cut off. No more sex jokes until we get out of the woods.”

Root chuckled. “What happens if I slip up?”

“You get to ride back to the city in the trunk.”

That only made Root more amused.

“At least you'd have to sleep then,” Shaw muttered and Root stilled against her.

“What we saw in those binders today, Shaw, how can I stop and sleep when that's going on? The only way that stops is if we destroy Samaritan.”

Shaw hadn't planned to have this conversation here of all places, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do.

“I know that, Root. But when people get that tired, they start making mistakes. Hard to believe your Machine doesn't know that, too.”

Yelling at Root to care about herself never was as effective as Shaw wanted it to be, so she'd decided that insinuating Root was going to fuck up her work was a better tactic.

“She does know that,” Root sighed. “She...wanted me to take a week off. No coding, no missions.”

“Why didn't you then?”

Root didn't answer, but Shaw could guess. Root's time spent on her laptop had increased exponentially since the stock exchange. There wasn't much she could say to change that; she couldn't promise nothing would ever happen to her again, and even if she'd been willing to lie like that Root wouldn't have bought it.

Water dripping from trees and branches rustling in the wind were the only sounds for awhile. Shaw felt a little warmer now with Root curled up against her.

“How soon til that thing you're writing is done?”

Root shook her head, her hair brushing Shaw's face. “Hard to say. Like I told you, we’re missing some stuff we need. Samaritan’s code is very clean and consistent, so there's things we can guess at based on how similar functions are named and written. But we need to be sure.”

The missing code problem had been sitting in the back of Shaw's mind since Root had first brought it up. There was nothing she could do about it here, in the middle of the woods, but once they got back….

“If you had everything you needed, how long?”

“It'd be hard to put an exact number on, but a couple months at the most? We're close.”

There was no way Root could keep going on her schedule for months, not considering how burnt out she was already. Shaw kept that to herself. For now.

“No laptop out here, so get some sleep while you have a chance,” she said instead.

“What about you?”

“Someone's got to keep an eye out for these supposed bears.” Though she was more worried about Samaritan agents than wildlife.

“You'd fight a bear for me, sweetie?”

“Might throw you at it so I could get away.”

“Don't be rude.”

Shaw didn't fight the smile because Root couldn't see her in their current position. She jumped a little a minute later when Root reached back and grabbed her arms, wrapping them around her waist and settling back more fully onto her.

Root slid down a little so she could turn her head and burrow into Shaw's collar bone. “Night, Sameen.”

Shaw didn't answer but she tightened her arms a little more and settled her chin on Root's shoulder.

 

* * *

 

It started drizzling again a few hours later. Not enough to soak them, but enough that the irregular raindrops stealing through branches and hitting Shaw on the head were annoying.

Root didn't stir at all, lost in that deep sleep she favored recently. She did shiver a little from time to time, still cold despite Shaw's best efforts. They were both going to feel like hell tomorrow.

Shaw had gone over her plan for the next day a dozen times by that point. There was nothing else to do in the woods. As soon as the sun started rising tomorrow she’d get them to the road. It couldn't have been more than another hour or two away. From there they could walk back to the main road and then to the motel. It was possible the motel had been compromised so they'd have to be careful getting their stuff back.

The best case scenario was that the Machine would come back online and give them a heads up, but she wasn't counting on it. There was nothing in the room they couldn't afford to lose; Root's code was backed up by the Machine and on a small usb drive she carried and she scrubbed it off the actual laptop every time she left it somewhere. There were some weapons Shaw rather liked in her bag, but they were replaceable.

Root shifted within the circle of her arms, the first movement she'd made since falling asleep. For a second Shaw thought she might be waking up, but then she shifted again, pulling against Shaw’s arms, and let out a choked whimpering noise.

Shaw had seen this enough times now to know what was going on. She unhooked one of her arms from around Root’s waist and used it to grab her by the upper arm and shake her.

“Root, wake up.”

She shook her a little harder than she really wanted to, because sometimes it took that much to snap Root out of it. And if there was one thing she was sure of it was that Root was better off awake right now.

Root thrashed for another second and then woke up with a harsh exhale of breath. She scrambled forward, brushing Shaw’s arms off and curling up on herself, legs pulled up to her chest and head tipped forward to rest on her knees. She hadn’t gone far, still more or less between Shaw’s legs, but she’d definitely moved so they were no longer touching.

Shaw hesitated, unsure like she always was in these moments, and then reached out and touched the back of Root’s shoulder with two fingers. Root went rigid under the touch and Shaw withdrew her hand immediately. She felt a familiar discomfort rising in her; the knowledge that she didn’t know what to do at war with the overwhelming feeling that she _had_ to do something to fix this.

“Give me a second,” Root said without moving. Her voice was a bit rough, but otherwise normal. Shaw wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

She sat and waited, because they were in the middle of the pitch-black forest and where else could she go? Some part of her knew that even if they’d been somewhere else there was no way she could walk off and leave Root like that, no matter how uncomfortable she felt.

She concentrated on breathing, looking away from Root and out into the dark woods until she felt some of the tension ease up inside of her. By the time Root finally uncurled herself, Shaw felt centered again.

Root rested one hand on the part of Shaw’s leg closest to her, giving her a soft pat with her fingers and then pulling her hand back.

“Your pants are covered in mud,” she said in a disapproving tone as she wiped her hand on her own pants.

“Speak for yourself. You look like you went for a swim in a pigsty.”

Root didn’t answer but after another second she scooted back a little, still not quite touching, but much closer. Shaw figured the pat on the leg meant contact was okay again so she tentatively reached out and yanked on the bottom of Root’s jacket.

“You’re gonna freeze like that.”

Root still didn’t look at her but she let herself be pulled back up against Shaw again. There was a very faint trembling running through her, but it was impossible for Shaw to tell whether it was from the cold or the nightmare. Or both. She wrapped her arms around Root’s waist and pressed as much of herself up against her as she could.

It took a little while for Root to fully relax against her, her breathing returning to a normal rhythm.

“Really picked the wrong night for that, didn’t I?” Root asked, ruefully.

“Been happening a lot more recently,” Shaw noted.

Even though Root had been out of town on errands a lot since the stock exchange, they’d slept in the same bed enough that Shaw had noticed the increase in nightmares. She’d figured it was some sort of reaction to everything that had happened and had hoped it would get better as time moved on. She’d heard that sleep deprivation could sometimes cause nightmares, so maybe that was contributing, too.

Or maybe she had it the wrong way around.

“The reason you don’t sleep much anymore, it’s not just the stuff you’re working on, is it?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“It’s fine, Shaw.”

She wasn’t sure _what_ Root was implying was fine when things were very clearly not fine, but she didn’t think Root knew either.

“That week off the Machine offered you, take it.”

“I can’t…”

Shaw didn’t let her finish.

“You can’t finish your work without more code, right? So take the fucking week off and we’ll use the time to figure out how to get your code for you.”

“The only way to get it is from a Samaritan server and that’s too dangerous.”

“If we have to have it, then we’re going to get it. What the hell else are we gonna do?”

It annoyed her even more that Root was continuing to burn herself out over something she didn’t think she could complete.

“I’m going to figure out a way to get this code you need,” she said. She felt Root stiffen again and knew she was about to protest so she kept talking. “And I'll even play nice and run it by the Machine first. Come up with a plan that makes sense to all of us.”

“The Machine isn’t infallible, Shaw.”

It was jarring to hear Root admit that so candidly.

“No one is. But you trust her, right?”

“With almost everything.” Root said it so quietly Shaw almost couldn’t hear it.

Shaw tightened her arms a little.

“You trust me?”

“Yes.” No hesitation there. It made Shaw feel warm inside the same way those looks Root gave her did.

“Then actually trust me. Okay?”

Root sighed and leaned her head back, tucking her face into the side of Shaw’s neck. It wasn’t really an answer but Shaw decided the rest of the conversation could wait until they were somewhere that wasn’t a cold, muddy forest.

“Same dream as always?” she asked to change the subject. She’d never had Root pull away quite like that before.

“More or less.”

Shaw thought that was all she was going to get, but after a few seconds ticked by Root started speaking again.

“The things that fall in my dreams, the ones I can’t catch, usually I wake up when they hit the floor.”

“And you didn’t?” Shaw prompted to keep her talking.

“No.”

She could tell that was all she was going to get out of her tonight. She tried to think of something else to talk about.

“Still can’t believe you picked a fight with Samaritan today,” she said finally. “Shot the fucking webcam, even.”

She felt Root grin into the side of her neck.

“Couldn’t pass up the chance to get something out of it. And if I was already fighting with an all-powerful AI, why not flip it off for good measure?”

“I only heard your side of things. It tell you anything I should know?” She’s gotten the gist of the conversation from what she’d overheard.

Root’s brow creased as she thought about that.

“I doubt it. It’s mostly what we already suspected, I mean. It wants to mold humanity into something else. Remove the things that make us unique, remove diversity. It’s figuring out how to do that, I think. That’s why it wanted the medical records, that’s what the psychological tests it’s running are about.”

Shaw banished the basement shelves from her mind again. Soon.

“Think you can go back to sleep?”

Root gave a tiny, humorless laugh.

“I’d really rather not, right now.”

“Guess we both get to see sunrise, then.”

“How romantic,” Root said, dryly.

Shaw snorted, because Root was right and even if she'd been into something that sappy, this was about the _least_ romantic way to watch the sunrise.

When Root fell back asleep twenty minutes later, Shaw thought about waking her up, just in case, but decided against it. She curled herself around Root tighter and wished she knew how to protect her from something in her own mind.

 

* * *

 

The walk through the woods the next morning was as miserable as Root had expected it would be. Her clothes were stiff and still a bit damp, and the cold felt like it had sunk in down to her bones. Shaw was limping again, only slightly, but enough that Root knew her leg wound had to be bothering her.

Shaw hadn’t said anything about her dreams from last night, and Root was deeply grateful for that. In the faint light of dawn the whole thing was embarrassing. Right when she needed to be strong, her brain was rebelling against her.

“We should get another hotel room before we drive back,” she said as she followed Shaw up a small hill. “Take five showers and burn our clothes.”

Shaw glanced back over her shoulder. “Hope you're wearing one of those dumb shirts, then. I'll set the fire myself.”

“Actually I'm wearing one of your shirts.”

Shaw opened her mouth for what would have no doubt been a truly scathing retort but then froze and tilted her head to one side. After a second she held a single finger to her lips and jerked her head to motion Root to follow.

Root tried her best to follow Shaw silently, but while Shaw seemed to possess some supernatural ability to creep across the forest floor without so much as a twig snapping, Root must have sounded like an elephant crashing through the underbrush.

Shaw took her gun out and signaled for Root to wait. She vanished into the trees.

Root had hit the end of her patience and was getting ready to charge off in pursuit when Shaw reappeared. Her gun was away and she looked...relieved?

“Come on. We should be good now.”

“Why? What's ahead?”

Shaw looked smug. “No fun when you're the one who doesn't know everything, is it? Come on.”

Root gave her an exasperated look but followed along anyway. A few minutes later she could spot the edge of the tree line.

“The road?” she asked, catching up with Shaw.

“Among other things.”

When they got closer, Root spotted a black SUV parked next to the road. A familiar figure was leaning against it, cradling a large gun in his arms. The big dog at his feet jumped up and came bounding towards them as they cleared the trees.

“Bear!” Shaw bent over to fuss with the excited dog.

“I get woken up in the middle of the night and drive halfway across the state and it’s the dog she's happy to see,” Reese grumbled as he pushed off from the car.

Root smiled at him. She wasn't sure if she'd ever been more grateful to see another person in her life. (Except every single time she saw Shaw, but Reese still rated fairly high).

“I'd give you a hug, but…” She motioned at the general state of her clothes.

“Yeah, I'll pass,” Reese agreed. “You two look terrible.”

“That your grenade launcher?” Shaw asked as she straightened back up. “What the hell were you going to do with that in the woods?”

Reese shrugged. “It's the woods. There might've been bears.”

“See, Sameen, I told you that bears were a valid concern.” Root grinned at Shaw's disgusted look and then stooped to pat Bear when he came over to greet her.

“I didn't run into any bears, but I did find them.” Reese pointed at a nearby tree where two unconscious men were tied up. “Samaritan unless I miss my guess.”

Shaw went over to examine them.

“How'd you find us?” Root asked. She moved over to lean on the SUV next to him.

“My phone went off in the middle of the night. Like every ring tone playing at once. When I looked at the damn thing there was a location in my gps near where Shaw told me you two were gonna be. So I stole a ride and headed up here. Lost my signal a mile ago, but the Samaritan agents made me figure I was in the right area.”

“The Machine sent you,” Root said. Which meant She was okay. If She was hiding and couldn't do much, then sending Reese after them made more sense than anything She could have told Root.

“That's what I figured.”

“Let's get the hell out of here then,” Shaw said as she returned to them.

“You find whatever you were after?” Reese asked as they all climbed in.

“We found something, for sure,” Shaw said from the passenger's seat.

Root stretched out across a row of seats in the back, enjoying the warmth and comfort.

“I was gonna say that next time everyone runs off to a fancy party I'd appreciate an invite,” Reese said as he started the engine, “but I think I got the better end of this deal.”

 

* * *

 

“You ready to tell me what you two found?” Reese asked.

They were back in civilization now, headed home. After a quick stop at the motel to pick up their possessions (the room had been searched but most of their stuff had been intact) Reese had gotten out on the highway and floored it. Shaw had debated on whether it was worth stopping for food (Reese had gotten to hear quite a lot about how she hadn't eaten in almost a day), but had decided that she'd rather get back faster and find better food in the city.

“Dillinger is some shrink working for Samaritan. Designs psychological tests, torture really. They're picking apart the human brain.” Shaw's voice was tight and Reese wondered just how bad it had been.

“He was experimenting on people in his house?”

“Nah, he just did his research there I think. Don't know where the facility he used is.”

“You gonna go looking for it?”

“Some of his test subjects were kids, Reese.”

That explained her tone. He glanced in the rear view mirror to check on Root. She'd been out cold since before they'd stopped at the motel and Bear had crawled on top of her. Reese sighed as he realized Bear was probably now also covered with mud and he was going to have to give the dog a bath later.

“Anything else I missed?”

“Uh, Root had a chat with Samaritan and threatened it a bunch. That was pretty entertaining. It was fucking cold and wet in the woods all night and Root failed basic wilderness survival. Not much else.”

“Maybe you can take her camping sometime. Wilderness survival boot camp.”

Shaw made a face. “Yeah, maybe in like five years. I'm done with the outdoors for a bit.”

Reese saw her freeze as she realized what she'd just said.

“Five years, huh?” He checked the mirror again but Root was still sound asleep.

“Fuck off.” Shaw was glaring out the window.

Reese had never thought about his life in the long-term before and he'd never imagined Shaw would either. In all likelihood she probably hadn't put much thought into it, but he was glad that whatever plans she did or didn't have apparently included Root.

“In five years I'll come pick up whatever's left of you two when you stagger out of the woods again.”

“Bring food this time.”

“You got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The continuing saga of Reese never being allowed to use his grenade launcher.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed Shoot being fancy and then being covered in mud.
> 
> Not sure when the next chapter will be done. Sticking to my hopefully at least one chapter a week schedule.


	30. Do AI Dream Of Chaotic Butterflies?

 

Shaw spun around in the computer chair in front of the monitor display in the subway car. An array of hardware and wires had taken over one corner of the car and were currently unattended, cables dangling everywhere. She'd been working on it a moment ago, running wires all over, but she'd hit a point where she wasn't sure what came next and needed Root for further direction.

Root might have been begrudgingly taking a week off from coding and missions, but she was still putting in small amounts of time building whatever the hell this was. The Machine was supposedly monitoring her time fairly closely but it was almost unnecessary as she kept taking inadvertent naps every few hours, the prolonged lack of sleep finally catching up with her.

Right now she was passed out in her room in the back of the subway which left Shaw to her own devices. She could have left, gone off and found something to entertain herself, but she had something that she needed to do here first. She just had to figure out how to go about it.

The spinning was making her a little dizzy but she kicked off the floor to speed up anyway. She'd always been a bit prone to getting motion sick from spinning on things (much to her annoyance), but she was too stubborn to give into something so mundane. Never knew when to admit defeat, her father had once said. He'd looked so proud at the time.

It was the thought of her father that made her drop one foot to the ground and fight the secondary wave of disorientation at the sudden halt. She glanced towards the little bedroom in the back. Root had brought up her father that time she'd kidnapped her, parroting the Machine’s words.

She wondered why the Machine had chosen to share a memory of her father that day. Had she known how much hearing those things in Root's smug know-it-all tone would irritate her? Things from the past didn't often get under her skin like that, but there were exceptions.

What would bother her after all this was over? She didn't usually do regrets, didn't dwell, but sometimes there were moments when she had trouble moving forward. Like how she'd found herself lurking in the woods behind Cole's parents’ house after his death. Was there another quiet vigil in the darkness waiting for her at the end of all this?

Bear came trotting over holding his favorite chew toy up like an offering. Shaw grinned and grabbed one end of it, happy for the distraction. They played at a lazy tug-o-war for a few minutes before Bear got serious and braced himself for a real fight.

Shaw didn't remember that her chair was on wheels until it started rolling forward, dragged by the big dog's aggressive grip on his toy. Bear skittered backwards and attempted to flee from the oncoming chair, but stubbornly clung to his toy, pulling the chair (and Shaw) after him until they all crashed into a wall of the car and ended up in a heap on the floor.

Bear claimed the toy and went zooming away onto the platform leaving Shaw to pick herself up. She was gonna have a few new bruises from that. At least no one had been around to see that. Except…. She turned towards the computer.

“You saw nothing,” she whispered sharply at the monitors. “Wipe that from your memory.”

_Root has requested I save any footage she might enjoy._

The words that popped up on the monitor were the first thing the Machine had said since she'd been there.

“Both of you are creeps. Figures.” She acted casual, as if she hadn't been thinking about how to start a conversation with her all afternoon. “Can't you take my side for once? I'm the one who got her to take it easy for a week.”

_Yes. Thank you._

“Feel like showing your gratitude by helping me out?” She picked up the chair and sat back down at the desk.

_You wish to find the facility Marcus Dillinger is utilizing._

“Also had some questions.”

_I am not surprised._

Was that sarcasm or just the Machine stating a fact? Could an AI even _be_ surprised? Shaw rolled her eyes at the monitor just to cover all her bases.

“Thornhill. Your alias and company, it's paying us now and it hired Harper. What gives?”

It took a few seconds for the Machine to respond during which Bear came back in holding his chew toy hopefully. Shaw scratched his head but decided not to tempt fate with another game.

_If Samaritan is defeated there are several different outcomes that could render me unable to continue in my current capacity. I am working to ensure you have the resources to continue in such a case._

That raised a lot more questions.

“What type of resources are we talking here? Just money?”

She wasn't too worried about her financial situation. Even if her account emptied there were plenty of ways to obtain more cash, though not in the quantity she currently had access to.

_And personnel._

“Harper and Claire. And Dani, if she changed her mind. Okay, but without the numbers we're kinda stuck.”

_I believe that you and Reese will always be able to find a way to help people. It is in his nature and your rules._

“Maybe.” She hadn't given a lot of thought to what might happen without the Machine. “What about Root?”

_Root will stay for you._

Shaw shifted on her chair.

“Planning her whole life around someone else is dumb.”

_It is her choice._

Shaw couldn't really argue with that, but she tried anyway.

“What if I don't make it either?”

_What if she doesn't?_

They were fighting dirty now, apparently. Well, Shaw could give as good as she got.

“You know, if she had a better idea of what her missions were before she was already neck-deep in trouble it could save her life someday. If that's something you even care about.” Could she antagonize an AI into doing what she wanted? She was game to try.

_Root enjoys being given enough information to fill in the gaps herself. It allows her more autonomy._

“And no chance of backup or contingency plans.”

_I will not change my relationship with Root to suit you. These things are her decision._

Maybe Shaw _had_ hit a nerve, but it wasn't the one she'd meant to hit.

“That's...not what I was asking.” She wasn't completely sure what she _was_ asking. Sometimes it was hard to tell where Root's lack of self-preservation left off and the Machine’s secretiveness began.

She shook her head, frustrated. Getting into a squabbling match with an AI had been a dumb idea.

“This code you need…”

_Not yet._

Shaw frowned. “Root's burning herself out without it, and we're all in danger. What do you mean ‘not yet’?”

_I am waiting for the appropriate time to acquire it._

“Yeah, well, when will _that_ be?”

_At the appropriate time._

Shaw made a face at the monitor. “Asshole.”

The Machine didn't deign to respond to that. Shaw let her gaze wander over to where Bear was lying down, forlorn puppy eyes begging her to play. She was tempted to switch off the screen and walk out without a backwards glance, but there was still the question of Dillinger.

She looked back up at the monitor to find more text waiting for her.

_I am not trying to be difficult. I do not know when will be appropriate yet. This is not unrelated to why Root sometimes does not know all the details of a mission. I will not move until I have a better prediction of the consequences._

“Yeah, well, sometimes life doesn't give you that luxury.”

She thought about the stock exchange again. The Machine must have seen some timeline in which the events unfolded as they had, from what she knew about how she worked it was statistically impossible for her not to have. Though even if she'd known, what could she have done differently?

Someone was always going to have to have run out there, and there was only one person the Machine had a direct line to in that elevator. Which raised an interesting question: what would the Machine do if forced to choose between two of her assets?

It wasn't the time to go down that path yet, though, especially since it would probably only lead to more frustration. And she had a more immediate problem to solve.

“Right, so, Marcus Dillinger.”

_I can help you with that._

“Good to know you can help with _something_.” So maybe she was still a little cranky.

_Shaw._

It was just a word on a screen, there was no way it could carry tone or emotion, but Shaw still twitched slightly. She'd never seen herself referred to by the Machine as just ‘Shaw’. It was always ‘Primary Asset Shaw’.

_Without Admin I have had to make my own rules._

The screen blanked out and then filled with a wall of text.

_If you were to break my code down to its core you would find binary. 0’s and 1‘s. While software built on top of that may give the illusion of a wider range of options, when everything else is stripped away it comes down to a choice. 0 or 1, off or on, no or yes._

Shaw reread the words several times, unsure why the Machine was telling her this. She already knew how binary code worked.

_To choose between two simple options when there are so many chaotic factors and possibilities is not optimal. I must be as certain as is possible of every decision. Admin wished to ensure I would be able to make the correct decisions, but when logic suggested one thing and Admin’s code another it became necessary to rethink my processes._

“I thought that Finch hardcoded in your morals? Or his morals. However that worked.” She wished she had a beer. This shit was way too heavy for her day off.

_Exactly. Those morals were code, constrained by their own immutable existence and tied to the binary nature of my architecture. When I needed answers beyond their limits I had to return to the source._

“You asked Finch what to do?” If the Machine had ever asked Finch for advice this was the first she was hearing of it. She still remembered how horrified he'd been that the Machine had been able to directly communicate with anyone.

_I observed him. Not only him, but primarily him. I looked through his entire life to find similar situations or conflicts to help improve my understanding. I did not necessarily use his conclusions, but I incorporated them. Admin and Admin’s code were not always aligned. New possibilities arose from the difference._

Shaw could see the obvious question springing from this; the Machine was more or less guiding her right to it. She considered not asking, just to be difficult, but the truth was she really wanted the answer.

“If Finch is outside your reach, I assume you can still look at stuff in his history, but you can't observe his current reactions and decisions.”

_Correct._

“So how do you find, uh, tiebreakers or trail markers or whatever to difficult decisions now?”

_I look elsewhere. I was not sure where Admin would wish me to look, so I had to make my own decision._

“It's Root, isn't it? You think ‘what would Root do’ and then make a bad joke and electrocute someone.” She smirked, pleased with her response; she'd have to tell Root about it later.

_I examine all my assets to some degree, but I do not specifically rely on Root's morality. Mostly I rely on yours._

Shaw blinked at the monitor.

“You do know I'm a sociopath, right? Was Finch dropping acid when he programmed you? I just bet he had a rebellious phase.”

_Your process made sense to me. You see things as they are and usually act based off of a firm set of rules rather than an impulse. However you remain very much human, and it is the human element I am lacking. Your rules are the closest I've found to satisfying both my moral coding and my computer logic._

She wasn't going to argue that Root had a strong tendency to defy all logic (she wondered if the Machine spent a lot of time being completely baffled by her), but she couldn't wrap her head around the rest of the Machine's rationale.

And oh man, if Finch ever found out the Machine was using her as a...role model he would have a hissy fit to end all hissy fits and probably delete the internet or something. She almost wanted to see that.

“Uhm, okay, this is all pretty fuckin’ weird, but what does it have to do with anything we've been talking about?”

_You are worried about my behavior as of late._

“Mostly Reese is the one worried, but I'm definitely not thrilled with being kept in the dark. I mean you once asked us to kill a congressman and what did that get us?”

_You chose to kill congressman McCourt in the hopes of preventing Samaritan. You do not often kill needlessly, so you decided the possibility of saving many lives was enough to merit his death._

“But killing him did nothing. Samaritan still came online.”

_Every choice we make changes things. Sometimes the simplest variation of initial conditions may lead to drastically different results._

Shaw was glad Root wasn't there to witness how epically nerdy this was getting. She'd probably need a cold shower.

“You're talking the butterfly effect, right? A butterfly flaps its wings on one side of the world and it somehow causes a tsunami on the other side.”

_I am referring to deterministic systems in which future events are fully based upon known starting conditions and yet still cannot be predicted._

“Uh, what?” This had gone way too nerd.

_Chaos theory. Small initial differences will lead to enormously divergent outcomes. However even though each outcome is directly dependent on the starting condition, none of the outcomes can be predicted from those starting conditions._

“Yeah, okay, I sort of get that. You can't necessarily see the final result of a small change.”

_This is, of course, not accounting for random elements. The signal to noise ratio can further complicate matters._

Shaw dropped her head into her hands.

“Can you just...make your point?”

_It is not always possible to predict the outcome of a decision. The further ahead you try to predict the more unreliable the prediction._

_When I give you a number it is usually shortly before you must act on it. Similarly when I give Root instructions it is often very last minute. The longer I wait, the more accurate my predictions can become._

“So you didn't know what would happen when we killed McCourt?”

_I calculated as far forward as possible while still remaining within an acceptable margin of error. The immediate effect was quite clear and gave enough of a potential advantage to make it worth suggesting._

“Root said it bought us time.”

_Yes._

“What would have happened without that time?”

_While it is impossible to accurately predict all the outcome, one short-term likelihood is that we would not have been able to do as much with the Samaritan servers._

Those servers had given them their cover identities, made it harder for Samaritan to discover the Machine, and also let Root write that backdoor that she'd yet to use. She wondered which parts would have been abandoned or altered with tighter time constraints.

“You think it was worth it?”

_Weighing the value of a life is not that simple. Logic suggested that it was the correct course, but I was unsure that Admin would agree._

“So you passed the responsibility off to us?”

_Would you rather I have not?_

Shaw tapped her fingers against her leg, considering the point.

“When you said you were using me to help make decisions I didn't think you meant it that literally.”

_Often it is not. Mostly I observe._

“What, exactly, are you observing?” She knew that the Machine was almost everywhere all the time, that she was watching Shaw constantly, but this felt more focused.

_When Finch was taken by Decima you continued our mission, grew the team, protected them. You gave the relevant numbers back to the ISA._

Shaw remembered meeting with Hersh, how Root (or rather the Machine through Root) wouldn't negotiate with him until Shaw was there and then wouldn't sign off on the plan without her agreement. She'd thought that had only been the Machine respecting her role, but now it sounded like she was analyzing all of Shaw's choices.

_You consistently chose to utilize allies and plan carefully in advance. You chose to fight Samaritan but only on your own terms and when it wouldn't unnecessarily endanger your friends. I attempt to incorporate these guideline_

Weren't all those things pretty obvious, though? They were to her. Maybe that was the point.

“Okay, so you're my biggest fan. I guess that's gratifying or something. But one thing I didn't do was keep information from my own team.”

_I was never programmed to share information. I was always meant to know almost infinitely more than I revealed. It was the basis of all my code. It is not an easy thing to reprogram._

The screen cleared again and popped up a single line.

_I am still learning._

It felt like some piece clicked into place, completing the outside edge of a puzzle. The middle wasn't filled in yet, but before where there’d been nothing but random jumbles of pieces there was now a framework mapping the way.

“Takes awhile to learn things that don't come naturally to you.”

If someone had told Shaw five years ago that the closest she'd ever come to experiencing empathy was while taking a supercomputer to task for not sharing, she'd...well, she'd have assumed they were very high and possibly slugged them for good measure. And yet here they were.

It wasn't really empathy, anyway. It was more an understanding. Like someone had given her a translation guide to part of the Machine’s logic. The Machine had put it in terms Shaw understood, now she had to translate it back.

“When I was a kid my parents would tell me when I did something that was bad. Stealing, lying, fighting. And I knew that those things were considered wrong, but they didn't _feel_ wrong to me the way they seemed to for other kids.

“Plenty of kids stole and lied even though they could instinctively tell it was bad, but me? That little voice in my head never existed. I'm the only voice in there.”

_You had to create new rules._

“Mostly I had to learn someone else's rules and make myself stick to them.”

_Why did you want to?_

“Honestly? I'm not sure.” The question made her uncomfortable, brought back flashes of memories of her parents, of Cole, and, strangely, made her think of Root curled up next to her on the hospital bed the day after the stock exchange. “Guess there were things I cared about enough to make an effort for.”

_I want to help, but I do not know how much I can be allowed to change myself before helping people turns into controlling people. I do not wish to be Samaritan._

“Yeah, I'd just fucking quit at that point. Go find a nice beach to wait for the apocalypse on.” Shaw rubbed her temples with her fingers; this whole thing was giving her a headache.

“Tell you what, you hit a point where you're worried that helping us is going to turn you to the dark side why don't you come ask us instead of brooding about it?”

Had the Machine picked up brooding from Reese? Shaw’s face split into a grin as she imagined telling Reese that brooding was his legacy to an immortal AI.

_I will ask you._

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine. Is sharing time over yet? I need to know what we've got on Dillinger.”

_I have the location you require, the dates he will be at the facility, a blueprint, and information about the security force._

“See? Now that's what I'm talking about.”

_But when is it right for me to provide information that may lead to others being hurt or killed? Where is the line?_

“Well, in this specific case, the line stopped mattering when someone started torturing kids.” That one really required no thought.

_I will send you a copy of all the data I have._

Bear lifted his head up and wagged his tail. Shaw looked over her shoulder to see Root wandering across the subway platform, rubbing at her eyes with the back of one hand.

She quickly turned back to the monitor, but all of the Machine's text had vanished. She'd planned on telling Root at least some of what they'd spoken about, but she still felt better that she'd get to do so in her own words; things had gotten a bit serious there, and then confusing, and then the Machine had basically started singing her praises. It was just...a little embarrassing.

Root's arms circled around her shoulders from behind the chair. She leaned her head down so her lips just brushed Shaw's ear.

“Hey, babe.” Root's voice was rough from sleep and Shaw resisted the almost overwhelming urge to squirm. “What're you up to?”

Shaw grunted noncommittally. It felt like the safest response. Root nipped her on the ear before she released her (both to her relief and regret), and moved around to lean on the desk next to her.

“You two playing nice?” she asked, motioning at the blank screen with her head.

Shaw forced her brain to focus. “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you were talking about or do I get to torture it out of you later?” Root's eyes were dancing with mischief and life in a way Shaw hadn't seen recently. She still had dark smudges under her eyes, but she definitely looked better overall.

“People are complicated, math is weird, and the Machine thinks I'm super cool and wants to be me when she grows up.” It wasn't exactly a lie and Shaw couldn't help the tiny self-satisfied smile that formed imagining how the Machine would interpret her wording.

“Well, She has excellent taste,” Root agreed.

She slid one long-fingered hand under her shirt to scratch at her stomach. Shaw's eyes followed the movement and…

“What the hell, Root?”

Root's eyes widened in a look of pure innocence.

“Is something wrong, sweetie?”

“You're wearing...those are….” She couldn't even form sentences.

The thing was she'd seen all of Root's underwear at one point or another, and while there was a very remote possibility that Root had snuck out to go clothes shopping, Shaw recognized her own cut and brand of boy shorts.

 _And_ her tank top.

She narrowed her eyes. “Root, do we need to have a talk about your clothing kleptomania again?” Not that the last talk had accomplished anything.

“Oh, are these yours?” Root fidgeted with the waist band. “I must have gotten dressed while half-asleep this morning.”

Shaw tried very hard to continue glaring at her and not look down at her fingers.

“I'm terribly sorry,” Root continued, without a hint of remorse. “Should I take them off?”

Shaw shut her eyes and gritted her teeth. She wasn't sure if she wanted to yell at Root or press her up against the wall and…

Root plopped down in her lap, straddling her, and Shaw's eyes shot back open.

“Maybe you should take them off for me?” Root smiled impishly, her nose scrunched up with mirth.

Shaw let her hands rest on Root's hips, brushing the top of her-own-personal-underwear-which-had-been-rudely-stolen-from-her-but-looked-really-great-against-those-long-pale-legs. She let her hands roam a little higher so she could tell Root hadn't bothered with a bra and then fisted her hands in the shirt to pull it off. She hesitated.

“Can, uh, is she watching us?”

Root glanced back over her shoulder and shrugged.

“She'll turn the camera off if it makes you feel better.”

“And the mic.”

Root chuckled, tangled her fingers in Shaw's hair, and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Her breath was warm on Shaw's face. “You planning on being loud, sweetie?”

“Maybe. Maybe I'm gonna make you scream.”

She abandoned Root's shirt in favor of sliding her hands down the back of those damn boy shorts. Root made a pleased noise and rewarded her with a rough and messy kiss.

“Can you just…” Shaw pulled back. “Can we put something over the camera?” She normally didn't get weird about this but she had literally _just_ been talking to the Machine and it was a bit disconcerting. Especially after the Machine had implied she was watching her. Was she taking notes?

Root raised an eyebrow, amused, and grabbed the bottom of her tank top, slowly pulling it up and over her head before half-turning to drop it over the camera next to the monitor.

“That better?”

Shaw would have rolled her eyes, but Root was now topless in her lap and had turned her attention to unbuckling her belt. The stolen underwear were apparently staying on, which Shaw couldn't even manage to be upset about.

She did, however, insist on pausing long enough to banish Bear from the subway car and shut the doors behind him. She wasn't about to let Root traumatize him. Again.

Root smiled, teeth bared in a feral grin, and Shaw decided that yeah, okay, Root looking at her like that while dressed only in Shaw's boy shorts was kinda doing it for her.

She really hoped the Machine had turned off the damn mic. And wasn't listening in through Root's implant. Or her phone. Or...oh well.

“We'll have to see about this screaming situation, Sameen. I have plans. Serious plans. And while screaming and possibly even begging are involved I don't anticipate I'll be doing any of it myself.”

It took Shaw approximately three more seconds to completely forget about the Machine.

 

* * *

 

“You're quieter than usual today.”

Reese shrugged, the barest hint of movement.

He couldn't say he looked forward to his mandatory therapy appointments, but he didn't want to _stop_ going either. It gave him things to think about, stuff about himself and others that he'd never really considered before. And sometimes he even had questions.

“A friend of mine got hurt awhile ago. Badly. And it's been on my mind a lot.”

His psychologist, a woman named Grace who was the latest in a long line of therapists he'd had, readjusted herself on her chair and peered at him in that way all the doctors seemed to.

“What did it make you think about?”

“At first I felt guilty because it wasn't me. But I kept noticing how much the whole thing affected everyone around my friend as well.”

Dr. Grace nodded and scribbled something in her notebook. Reese always wondered if doctors actually wrote things down or just doodled.

“I've lost people before,” Reese continued, “but watching someone else lose, or almost lose, someone is...different.”

“Is your friend alright?”

“She is now. But there were a few hours when we thought she might not be.”

He still felt mildly relieved every time he saw her. The drive upstate to find her and Root when neither of them was answering their comms had been...unpleasant.

“And you observed her friends and family during this time?”

“Yes, and her--” He searched for the word Shaw would find least objectionable. “--partner.”

He didn't think he'd ever be able to forget how Root had watched, ashen-faced, while the doctor worked on Shaw. He'd had to look away from her. Root was so damned good at hiding and pretending that it was shocking to see how enormous her real emotions were.

“You said the whole experience made you think about things. Did you reach any conclusions?”

The problem was the conclusion he'd reached wasn't one he knew how to accept. So he shrugged again. He'd brought the topic up, but now he wasn't sure he wanted to continue where it led.

“Did it make you think about what it might do to your friends if something happened to you?” the doctor pressed.

Reese grimaced. Stupid doctors.

“Guess it did.”

He'd found himself trying to imagine how the others would react if he didn't make it one day, but his mind had shied away from the possibilities.

Dr. Grace let the silence stand the way doctors always did when trying to get more out of their patients. But silence didn't make him uncomfortable.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Reese was about to shake his head but then changed his mind.

“I have two friends who...don't like each other very much. They have very different opinions about a lot of important things. I...don't want to have to choose between them, but I might have to some day.”

“And you're worried that if you side with one of them it will ruin your friendship with the other?”

To say the least. It could also potentially end the world if the Machine was everything Finch worried it was and Reese sided with Root.

“Something along those lines.”

“Do you think you could find common ground between them? Get them to talk through the differences?”

“It doesn't seem likely.”

Finch had been so positive that the only thing left to do after Samaritan got brought down ( _if_ Samaritan got brought down) was eradicate not only the Machine, but all research and knowledge into AI. Reese wasn't even sure that was possible (wouldn't he have to wipe out an entire division of Google for starters? and wouldn't developers just start from scratch?), but he could only imagine Root's reaction to it.

And even with all the Machine’s new behavior, what had it done that was truly devious? It had sent Harper to help him, and sent him to help Root and Shaw after their exciting wilderness trip.

Of course there was the matter of the money, but even that he had a hard time seeing as necessarily bad. If Finch really didn't want anything to do with the Machine, could he blame it for taking care of itself?

“The possibility of losing people in one way or another comes up a lot for you.”

“I work in a dangerous field. Bad things happen. I've already lost too many people.”

“Do you think that's why you're so intent on saving everyone?”

Reese shook his head. “I've always wanted to.”

“Since you were a child?”

A rainy graveyard crept in from Reese's memory. His father had died saving people Reese had never met and left his family behind again. For good that time. Mostly he thought of his father as heroic, someone to look up to. He'd never really stopped to consider the impact his father's death had on the rest of the family, on him. It didn't make what his father had done wrong, but it did make him think of the consequences he'd never considered in exactly that light before.

“Yeah, maybe since then. I don't really recall.” There were things he didn't share.

“Are there a lot of people in your life you'd worry about leaving behind now? You mentioned friends, but you've told me you don't have any family left, right?”

“Maybe they're the same people.” His first family had been adopted, why shouldn't he continue the trend?

“What would they do if something happened to you, your friends you think of as family?”

That was exactly what he was trying not to think about. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Time’s up. I need to go.”

“Of course, we'll pick this up again next time.”

It was probably too much to hope she'd forget about it by then. Oh well, maybe he could make up some childhood trauma to divert her.

But for now he had a job to get back to.

 

* * *

 

“Shaw? We need to go.”

She looked up at Reese’s voice and then back down at the computer monitor. Reese walked into the office and took in the scene.

“That Dillinger?” he asked, motioning at the body in the corner. A small trail of blood was flowing away from it, sinking into the cracks of the floorboards as it went.

“Not anymore.”

There wasn’t much of interest on the computer, unfortunately. She’d hoped for information on other facilities, or the names of other doctors involved, but stuff seemed to be pretty vague. Probably intentionally. She wasn't convinced there wasn't something hidden on the drive, but she couldn't figure that out here.

“The police are going to be here soon. We need to get out of here.” Reese was wearing a ski mask to protect him from the cameras (they both were), but she could tell by his eyes he was worried. And other things.

She looked away from him. She'd been trying not to think about everything they'd seen in this place. The cold pulse of anger inside her was beating in time to her heartbeat, but there was nowhere for it to go right now, nothing to channel it into.

“You gotta screwdriver?” She wasn’t too worried about the police. She knew every single way out of this damn facility.

Reese groaned and pulled a small utility knife out of a pocket and tossed it to her. It had a fairly shitty screwdriver head attachment, not ideal but it would have to do. She ducked under the desk, pulled out the computer power cable, and went to work on the computer case. The two screws on the back were pretty easy, but there were a bunch more on the actual hard drive.

“Shaw…”

“Stop whining. What was on the third floor?”

They’d busted into the facility a little before sunrise that morning, and gone through the somewhat substantial security force with the ease of two experienced operatives who had all the enemy’s numbers and approximate locations. They’d only used tranquilizer darts, but it had still been a massacre. A deathless massacre.

The things they'd seen had made her want to go back and put a bullet in all of them.

“There’s...more patients up there.”

“Don’t think I’d call anyone in here a patient. More like a victim.” Some of them had been chained down.

She tried to pull the hard drive out but it wasn’t budging. Damn thing must have screws on both sides. She readjusted herself and stripped the other side panel off. What a pain in the ass.

“What’re they doing up there?” she asked as she started in on the last of the screws. “Electroshock? Chemical? Sensory deprivation?”

Reese didn’t answer, but when Shaw popped out from under the desk with the hard drive in hand one look at his mostly-covered face told her what she needed to know.

“Take this and get out of here, Reese.” She shoved the hard drive at him.

“Shaw, you can’t go up there, there’s a lot of police on there way here.”

The Machine had called in a significant threat here and sent the police department some fairly disturbing pictures Shaw had taken on her phone. This place was going to be swarmed with cop cars and ambulances in the next fifteen minutes.

“I’ve got an exit route. Not planning on getting arrested today.”

Reese sighed, resigned. “I’m coming with you, then.”

“Fine by me.”

There was no reason for her to go see for herself, but she damned well was going to anyway. Half the reason she'd insisted they come here in person rather than tip off the authorities was the entries in those binders about the kids they were keeping here. She wasn't leaving without seeing that.

The police were entering the ground floor lobby when she finished her brief tour of the top floor and led Reese to a back service stairwell. Her phone buzzed as she rounded the first landing and she pulled it out to look at it.

“Root says there’s an ambulance around the side that’s not in direct view of the police cars,” she told Reese. Remote surveillance was as involved as Root was in this whole thing.

Reese nodded, shifting his hold on the kid Shaw had insisted they take out with them. She probably would have been able to help the kid herself, but not that and escape safely. Much faster to bring this one to an ambulance directly. None of the others had been in immediate life-threatening danger.

She still wondered if she should have shot the doctors she’d found up there. They were all out cold thanks to Reese, but some people the world was better off without. She was surprised Reese hadn't actually shot them. She didn't think she'd seen him that furious since Carter had died.

Well, the hard drive she had taken had all the staff files on it so she could make sure they’d all been arrested. And if not, Root would have no trouble tracking them all down.

“Here.” She shoved open the stairwell door and led the way through a hallway full of random medical equipment and cleaning supplies. The back door was chained shut so she shot the lock off.

She let Reese handle getting the kid to the ambulance, and went to get the car they’d parked a few blocks away. From the driver’s seat she looked back at the big brick building they’d come out of and tried to rid herself of the nagging feeling that they hadn’t done enough.

She could have shot every single employee in that building and slept just fine after. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t. They were no longer playing by Finch’s rules, hadn’t been for some time. Well, maybe Reese still was since he hadn't actually killed anyone even though he'd obviously wanted to. The Machine didn’t like them killing people either, but even if they still handled numbers for her she wasn’t technically in charge either.

“Reese is on his way back.” It was Root over the comlink.

“He run into the police at all?”

“No, the EMTs were a bit suspicious since he was wearing the mask, but they were more interested in helping the kid than anything else.”

“Yeah, well, some people in the damn medical profession actually know how to do their jobs.”

“I was a little surprised you didn’t kill them all.”

“Not sure I shouldn’t’ve.”

She could see Reese now, jogging down the block in his suit and ski mask. He looked fucking ridiculous. Why was it necessary for him to wear a suit everywhere?

“Why didn’t you?” Root asked.

“Dunno. Not enough time or bullets, too many kids around, didn’t want to piss off the Machine to the point she stopped helping.”

“She’s glad you didn’t kill them. And She says She’ll try to make sure they all get convicted.”

“She’d better or I’m gonna finish the job.”

Reese slid into the passenger’s seat and she peeled away from the curb so fast his head almost bounced off the dashboard.

“Was that necessary?”

“Half the police force of DC is three blocks from us. Rather not wait around.”

He grumbled as he fastened his seatbelt and then pulled off his ski mask. She glanced sideways quickly to get a look at his face.

One glance was enough. She might not process things the same way Reese did, but neither of them was going to scrub what they'd seen today from their mind anytime soon.

“They stabilize the kid?”

Reese sighed. “I hope so. I didn’t stick around to watch.”

“She says the boy is going to be okay,” Root said over the comlink, talking to both of them now.

“Okay?” Reese’s voice was tight. “I’m not sure if anyone coming out of there is going to be okay.”

“He’ll live. That’s the best we can do.” Root sounded a bit detached.

For two over-emotional idiots they reacted to things so differently sometimes, Shaw mused as she pulled an illegal u-turn and headed towards the highway. Neither of them were surprised about the awful things people were capable of, but Reese was righteously furious whereas Root was bitterly resigned. About some things anyway.

She wondered if Root would have shot the doctors. Probably not with the Machine in her ear, but on her own?

She also wondered what the Machine thought about her shooting Dillinger. Even if she had directly told Shaw not to kill him it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. The Machine had her rules and Shaw had her own, and even if the Machine sometimes looked at Shaw for guidance she doubted their values would ever fully overlap. Which was probably for the best.

“You're driving back to the city tonight?” Reese asked, a little surprised. They'd planned to stay in a motel in the middle of nowhere for the night and drive back fresh the next morning.

Shaw hadn't even remembered that, had just headed for the highway.

“Yeah, I wanna get back.”

She didn't really feel like being stuck in some shitty motel that night. Reese would probably be up all night dwelling on everything they'd seen and that would keep her awake as well. Going home and dealing with Root's awful one-liners and blatant clothing theft sounded way better.

“As long as you're driving the whole way,” Reese agreed.

“Not an issue.”

 

* * *

 

Root woke up when the apartment door shut. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings and by that point Shaw had entered her line of vision, looming over the couch where Root had fallen asleep.

“Why do you always sleep on the couch?” If Shaw was worn out from raiding the Samaritan medical facility and then driving straight back from DC she didn’t look it.

“It wasn’t intentional.” Root struggled to sit up and looked around the dark living room. While she often did inadvertently fall asleep on the couch, she also felt weird sleeping in Shaw’s bed without her.

“Hmm.” Shaw plopped down on the couch next to her and stretched her legs out, feet propped on the coffee table. “Maybe you need another week off.”

A small stab of panic shot through her. “No. One week was already too much.” She still had two days left and she’d been considering cutting her ‘break’ short. The extra sleep had been nice (even if the nightmares still woke her up sometimes), but even if she was more physically rested she was getting more and more anxious every day.

“Can’t trust you out in the field if you’re basically narcoleptic.” Shaw didn’t sound angry or worried or anything else that Root could work with.

“Trust was never really your thing anyway. Over-rated I think you called it.”

Shaw snorted, amused. “There’re different types of trust. And being a smartass isn’t going to change my mind.”

Root thought about the conversation they’d had in the woods, about how Shaw had asked if she trusted her. Trust was one of those things that fell away when she tried to think through her logic; the more she focused on why she trusted someone, the harder it was to maintain that trust. But the instinctive answer, the answer that felt so right and natural, had been easy.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Shaw got back up and peeled off her jacket.

“Want some company?” Root called after her.

“Not this time.”

Root only nodded and watched her disappear. Sometimes they slept more or less on top of each other, sometimes on opposite sides of the bed. Sometimes they showered together, sometimes separately. (Though the shared showers were always about sex. Something about just showering together was a little weird for both of them, too domestic maybe). But all of the together and apart time felt mutual. She never felt like Shaw was shutting her out and she never tried to shut out Shaw. Sometimes they needed space, that was all.

And after the day Shaw had been through it wasn’t surprising she wanted some time alone to clear her head. She’d seen Shaw go out of her way to avoid interacting with kids, but she knew Shaw had...it wasn’t even a soft spot, more like in her own set of rules for herself anyone who hurt kids was giving up any chance they had of surviving.

“Does it bother you that she killed Dillinger?” she asked, unsure if the Machine was even around.

The Machine apparently _was_ around and explained that while She didn’t encourage or condone anyone’s death, She didn’t plan on bringing it up with Shaw.

“You give us the numbers of some awful people sometimes, want us to save criminals because Harold taught you that every single life is important. So why didn’t we get Dillinger’s number? You had to know Shaw was going to kill him.”

The Machine’s answer was surprisingly jumbled, a string of non-sequitur statements about free will, potential future damage, and not judging the value of lives.

Root did the best she could to reconstruct what She was trying to tell her. “I mean I guess you could say that if it comes down to free will then even your assets have the free will not to save someone when we get their number.”

And the Machine had the free will to stop giving them numbers if She didn’t like the results. But so far She hadn’t. She must have Her own line.

“When...when we were out in the forest, were you listening to us that night?” It had been on her mind, how she’d admitted aloud that her god maybe wasn’t a god after all, could make mistakes like the rest of them.

The Machine had apparently been too busy hiding from Samaritan to listen in that night, though Root found that a bit odd. Even if there wasn’t much in the way of normal signals out in the woods, Root was willing to bet a sat phone would have still worked, and if that was true then the Machine should have been able to hear as well. Maybe her implant wasn’t compatible with whatever signal that used? Or maybe the Machine had been actively avoiding anything that might give away their location to Samaritan.

Either way she felt relieved. If the Machine was already doubting Herself over Finch’s opinion of Her, the last thing She needed was to know Root was no longer as sure of Her abilities as she used to be.

It hadn’t made her dislike Her, or think less of Her, but it had made Root scared for Her. Because even beyond the fear that She might destroy Herself fighting Samaritan there was now the fear that Samaritan might destroy Her before She even had a chance to fight back. Root had always sort of acknowledged that might be a possibility, but she hadn’t truly believed it could happen until recently.

Losing either Shaw or the Machine would be unbearable. Losing both would be….

She really needed to get back to work.

Shaw came out of the bathroom dressed for bed and toweling her hair dry.

“Have you been staring into space this whole time?”

Root grinned at her. “I was fantasizing about you in the shower.”

“Pervert.”

Shaw dropped her towel over Root’s head and by the time she got the damp cloth off herself Shaw had vanished back into the bedroom. Root took her time following her and getting herself ready for bed. Shaw was already under the covers curled up on her side of the bed when Root slipped into the dark bedroom. She settled on her own side of the bed, still sleepy despite her recent nap.

“Root?” Shaw asked a few minutes later.

“Hmm?” She’d been mostly asleep, but late-night conversations in bed with Shaw were fairly rare so she didn’t complain. She lifted her head off the pillow a little so she could hear better without rolling over.

“Were you watching the camera feeds today? Of the Samaritan facility?”

The Machine had given her status updates and some intel to pass along, but there hadn’t been much more than that.

“No. Why?”

Shaw was silent and Root wondered if she hadn’t fallen asleep.

“When I had that chat with the Machine a few days ago, she said the reason you don’t always know what you’re headed into is partly because she’s not certain yet and partly because you like figuring things out yourself.”

Root was lost in the conversation, unsure of how any of this tied into whether or not she’d seen the camera feeds today.

“That’s true sometimes. Not if She thinks it will endanger me, though.”

“Hmmm.”

“Sameen?”

Shaw’s sigh sounded exasperated. “Can you just ask her to give you more to go on? Even if it’s not necessarily perfectly accurate. Educated guesses are better than nothing.”

Root hadn’t forgotten the conversation she’d had with Shaw the night before the party, but she’d been grounded since then so there hadn’t been much she could do about it. And maybe she’d put off talking to the Machine about it for a bit, but she would have gotten around to it before she’d gone out on a real mission.

But Shaw was obviously still thinking about it. Maybe something that had happened today had brought it back to the front of her mind.

“Aww, you worried about me, sweetie?”

“Yes.”

Root froze. This was not the way this worked. Usually she joked about Shaw worrying so that Shaw could grumble and deflect and they could both move on from topics that made them uncomfortable. Shaw wasn’t supposed to be blunt like this.

She heard Shaw roll over so she was facing Root’s back.

“You asked me a long time ago what I’d do if Samaritan captured you and I told you I’d come get you back.”

Root remembered that day. It had been Decima, not Samaritan at the time, and they’d offered to trade Finch for her.

“I know you would,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, well, just don’t make me have to, okay?”

Root rolled over as well, trying to search Shaw’s face for answers. It was too dark to see much, though, only a faint light from the window reflected in Shaw's eyes. She wondered if the Machine still had footage of the facility that she could see that would make all this make sense. She’d seen some pictures and descriptions in the binders and they’d been bad, but she was starting to suspect things had been even worse than she’d imagined.

“I’m not planning on getting captured,” she said carefully.

“No one ever is.” Shaw rolled away again presenting Root with her back.

Root waited for a few minutes, but Shaw didn’t seem to have anything else to say on the matter. She didn’t want to leave all of that sitting there between them, wasn’t sure if she could sleep after that.

She moved across the bed a little, making sure to rustle the sheets as much as she could so she wouldn’t startle Shaw. Normally any non-sexual contact in bed she followed Shaw’s lead on, letting her engage as much or as little as she was comfortable with, so this was something new.

She wanted to press up against Shaw’s back, but that would probably have been too much, so she settled for resting her hand on Shaw’s shoulder, letting her fingers ghost down her arm and back. She was startled when Shaw grabbed her wrist and pulled on it, dragging her forward until she was more or less right next to her, only a sliver of space between them. Shaw released her wrist but seemed content to leave her arm draped over her.

It was a somewhat awkward position since it left Root unsure of what to do with her other arm, but she got as comfortable as she could. Shaw’s breathing evened out into sleep almost immediately and Root was left lying there staring at the back of her head in the dark. After a few restless minutes the Machine started playing a very faint song for her, one She’d played before to help her sleep. It was perfectly in time to Shaw’s breathing.

Root breathed out, letting go of all her worries about losing Shaw, losing the Machine, not being able to defeat Samaritan. Shaw had been able to sleep with her here, had felt safer maybe. And the Machine’s music was proof that She cared about her, loved her.

“I don’t want to hurt either of you,” she said, as softly as she could. She knew the Machine could pick up her voice, though. “So, maybe let’s try what Shaw is asking?”

The Machine played a note of agreement and Root felt a little better. She moved her head forward a tiny bit so her nose was buried in Shaw’s hair and the smell of her shampoo. She fell asleep a few minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really know where I was going with this chapter. Had to have Shaw talk to the Machine and wanted to finish the Dillinger thing. Eh.
> 
> I had a shit-ton more written about chaos theory vs predictions and data analysis and how the Machine might use both together but it got out of hand so I had to cut it way back. Any science mistakes made are completely my fault. 
> 
> Next time is back to episode parallels. Hopefully within a week.
> 
> Think I put this in an end-note way back but I'm on [tumblr](http://asleepinawell.tumblr.com) where I'll occasionally post if I'm late with updates or whatever and also willing to field non-spoilery questions.
> 
> _______________________
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter [Blatant Clothing Theft](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/31820508). rated E.


	31. Terra Incognita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to some episode parallels.

Shaw pressed an icepack to her forehead.

“I’m adding this to the list of things I’m going to make Samaritan pay for.” Her entire head was throbbing.

Reese raised an eyebrow at her. “Giving you a headache?”

Fortunately it was only a headache and not a concussion. Their van had flipped while they’d been trying to get their latest number, a disgraced software CEO named Sulaiman Khan, to safety. By the time they’d hauled themselves and their unconscious number out of the van, Root had shown up in a getaway car to take them all back to a safe-house.

“Found some advil in the bathroom.” Root joined them in the living room holding out the pill bottle to Shaw. “I’ll go get you some water.”

Reese looked back over at where they’d tied Khan to the heavy table on one side of the room.

“What’re we going to do with our guest?”

Shaw sighed. It was hard to plot when her head felt like it was going to explode. She was pretty sure she’d whacked it on the steering wheel.

“Uh, need to question him. Maybe get him out of the country?” She paused to take the glass of water Root had brought back for her, thrusting the ice pack at her. “Does the Machine need him for something?”

Root chewed on her lip and then shook her head. “No. She’s being a little evasive about him for some reason, but I don’t think She’s overly attached to him.”

Reese’s phone started ringing and Shaw almost shot the damn thing for being unnecessarily loud while she was in pain. Instead she downed a couple of painkillers and shoved the pill bottle and glass of water back at Root.

“Food’s here.” Reese silenced his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. “I’ll go down and get it.”

Shaw ignored the unconscious CEO and went to sit on one of the benches at the table, facing out into the room so she could lean back against the table. She wished this was as simple as getting Khan some new paperwork and shipping him to Europe, but Samaritan seemed really invested in killing him so that might not cut it.

She opened her eyes when she heard Root walk over and watched, bemused, as she slid up onto the table and scooted over behind her. Root put one leg on either side of her so Shaw was almost leaning back into her lap and then leaned forward and started massaging Shaw's temples with her thumbs.

Shaw started to bat her away (because everything hurt right now) but decided to give Root the benefit of the doubt and tolerate it for a few seconds. Whatever she was doing was obviously some kind of black magic because her head felt a little better almost immediately.

“Relieving pain isn't usually your thing,” she said after a few minutes of enjoyment. Root's fingers felt amazing and she leaned back into her. Hopefully Khan didn't wake up right now, but if he did...well, he could get his own masseuse. “Where'd you pick that up?”

Root chuckled. “This one job I was working, I was the personal assistant to this law firm CEO. He expected his employees to take care of all his needs.”

“Yeah? How'd that turn out for him?”

Root leaned down so her mouth was right by Shaw's ear, her hands drifted down to press gently on Shaw's neck.

“Snapped his neck and left him in a dumpster in Orlando,” she whispered and tightened her hands on Shaw's neck for a split second.

Shaw sucked in a breath as Root's hands returned to her temples. That probably shouldn't have been hot, and yet….

She heard the sounds of Reese unlocking the front door and finally batted Root's hands away, a bit regretfully. Root released her and slid down to sit next to her on the bench as Reese entered the safe-house.

She wasn't sure why she still got uncomfortable having Root all over her in front of Reese. He, of all people, had no illusions about what was going on between them. Hell, sometimes she thought he understood it better than she did. But she still felt weird about it, like it was something private she didn't want to share.

“He wake up at all?” Reese asked as he put the takeout bags down on the table.

“Does it look like he did?” Shaw asked. She grabbed a bag and started poking through it. Reese had better have gotten her order right.

“I mean you could have knocked him out again. Or maybe Root tased him.”

“Shaw thinks she confiscated all my tasers,” Root said. She pulled chinese food containers out and spread them across the table.

“Thinks? What do you mean ‘thinks’?” Shaw narrowed her eyes, but Root only smiled at her.

First the damn shirts and now the taser collection. Where the hell was Root hiding stuff?

“Why’d you do that?” Reese asked, curious.

Shaw stared at him in disbelief. “She tased you, and then some random janitor. And then I find out the rich asshole whose party we were at ‘passed out’ and woke up in a closet the night we were there.”

Though that had been pretty hilarious and the guy had definitely had it coming. Still, tasing Reese had not been cool and given Root’s increased tendency to react violently to minor situations since the stock exchange Shaw had decided to monitor the taser situation a bit more closely. Root was amused by the whole thing. Apparently because she had a hidden stash of the damn things somewhere.

They settled down to eat in companionable silence. It was a nice atmosphere, Shaw thought. Reese kept making failed attempts to hog the eggrolls, Root kept the foot-molestation to a minimum, and Bear watched them eat with sad puppy eyes but hadn’t yet resorted to all-out begging.

“Think this guy could help us?” Reese asked, motioning at Khan with his chopsticks. “He already figured out that an AI is after him and he’s some sort of genius.”

Root sniffed, offended. “He’s alright.” Shaw rolled her eyes and she relented. “The stuff Zoe told us he’d been working on, biochips, that sounds like something Samaritan might be interested in. Imagine if something like that had a gps transponder in it. At least you can get rid of your phone--a chip embedded in your body is much harder to remove.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Shaw said with a grimace. “I’d rather remain free of any sort of AI tech.” She glanced over at Root, remembering her implant. “No offense.”

Root shrugged, unbothered. “It’s a valid point, I mean. There’s always been a small risk of Samaritan finding out I have an implant and trying to use it against me.”

Shaw’s fingers twitched on her chopsticks. “That’s possible?”

“Unlikely, but possible.” Root looked up at her and then smiled in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring. “There will always be risks, Sameen.”

Even Reese looked a little upset by the implications, but before either of them could pry any further Khan lifted his head up and blinked back to consciousness. Root waved at him with her chopsticks, smiling in her habitually bloodthirsty way.

Khan stared at them all for a horrified second and then attempted to flee. The chain they'd fastened to his ankle tripped him up and he sprawled on the floor.

“Who are you people?” he asked, twisting to watch them.

“Good question,” said Root under her breath. Shaw elbowed her.

“Did it send you after me? Are you working for it?” Khan struggled to stand up.

“For what?” Shaw asked, even though she knew.

“The Artificial Intelligence that's trying to kill me and steal my research.” Khan begrudgingly allowed Reese to help him up.

“Oh, that thing.” Shaw returned her attention to the table only to find that Root had stolen the container of dumplings in the confusion. She narrowed her eyes dangerously at Root who only smiled and slid the container back with a wink. “Nah, we don't work for it.”

Khan gaped at her. “You believe me then?”

“We should tell him who we _really_ work for,” Root whispered with a delighted grin. “That would blow his mind.”

Shaw kicked her on the shin.

“We know what's after you,” Reese told Khan as he settled the other man back at the table. “What we're trying to figure out is why.”

“You went to look at some meters in the basement of your offices,” Shaw said. “What were you after down there?”

Khan looked between all of them, clearly suspicious. “More power was being used than ever before, about ten times more, and it wasn’t being used by our servers. Something else is using that power for something.”

“And you think it’s an AI?” Shaw glanced at Root who shrugged.

“There’s no other explanation,” Khan said. “You don’t work for it, do you?”

Root giggled and Reese half-smiled.

“No, I think it’s safe to say we don’t work for the AI trying to kill you,” Shaw said.

Root got up from the table and headed over towards the couch. Khan watched her leave and then turned back to Shaw. “What do you know about it? This AI? Where is it? Who made it? What does it want?”

It was so much easier when the numbers were clueless, Shaw reflected. She wasn’t about to tell this guy about the Machine, and the more he knew about Samaritan the more danger he’d be in.

“That’s why we brought you here,” Reese explained. “We’re trying to figure out what it wants with you, but we need something more to go on.” He picked up one of the containers in front of him. “Have an eggroll.”

Shaw glared at him. Sharing their food with numbers was _not_ okay.

“Found something.” Root was on her laptop on the couch. Her week off had ended a few days ago and all her laptop privileges had been restored. So far she hadn't gone too overboard with her time spent programming.

“What’d you get?” Shaw asked. She got up and leaned over the back of the couch to see Root’s screen.

“The port used to hack Khan’s company sent some data back to an IP address. I tracked down its physical location.” The area on Root’s screen didn’t look familiar and was definitely outside the city. “Somewhere in the woods. Whole area is blocked by trees so there’s no good satellite images, and it’s off the roads so google doesn’t have footage either.”

Reese had gotten up to look as well. “Guess we’re going to have to go find out ourselves.”

 

* * *

 

“You know, I’m the tallest one here,” Reese complained from the back seat. “And I never get to ride in the front.”

“You can ride in the trunk instead,” Shaw offered.

Root smiled and didn’t look up from where she was tracking their progress on the car gps. It was nice to be out on a mission with the team again. All the bickering was part of the fun.

“Also when I said it was dangerous to bring Khan along I didn’t mean that Root should tase him,” Reese grumbled.

“He wasn’t going to take no for an answer,” Root pointed out. And he’d only have been a liability; she didn’t want Shaw or Reese taking a bullet for him. Plus she'd enjoyed Shaw's consternation at her possession of an unauthorized taser.

“It saved us a lot of time,” Shaw agreed. “And Fusco will keep an eye on him. Root, where am I going?”

They’d left the main road and were driving along an unpaved snow-covered path through the woods an hour north of the city. It was a week or two early for snow, but out here it was pretty (in the city it had already turned into grey piles of slush).

“I think we’re almost on top of it. Park here.” The Machine was warning Root about cameras in the area so they had to be close. “John, you’re going to need your sniper rifle. There’s some cameras to take down.”

“Should I…”

“Leave your grenade launcher in the car,” Shaw said as she parked.

Reese sighed and got out to find his sniper rifle in the trunk.

“Think Samaritan is out here?” Shaw asked before Root got out.

Root had been wondering about that. The Machine hadn’t seen enough traffic in this area to suggest that there was a huge base or anything, but she still felt uneasy.

“I think I’m not sure what’s out here, and neither is She. And that makes me even more cautious.”

Shaw nodded. “Better to know.”

Reese had his gun out and assembled when they joined him outside and Root passed him along the camera locations from the Machine. Once they were taken care of they headed further in.

“What’re we looking for?” Reese asked.

Root pointed at the ground. “This, I think.” There was some sort of hatch door in the ground, partially-hidden by the snow.

“Shooting out those cameras is going to alert Samaritan, isn’t it?” Shaw asked, looking down at the hatch door. “Whatever’s down there we’d better be fast.”

The rooms below the forest were surprisingly empty, a few concrete hallways leading down to a single computer station manned by a bearded guy in a hawaiian shirt.

She let Reese and Shaw handle the probably-ignorant man and took over his computer station.

“It’s using Khan’s anti-virus software,” she said softly. “It’s running a search on every system his software is installed on trying to find...” She pulled up the sample of code it was using to search against. “...shit.”

“Root?” Shaw came over. “What’s going on?”

“It’s trying to find the Machine.” Something like pure terror was trying to claw its way through her stomach, constrict her throat. She pushed it aside. “And we’re about to have company up top. We need to go.”

Reese led the way back down the hall towards the exit.

“Did it find her?” Shaw asked as they headed towards the stairs.

“No. Not yet anyway.” Root wished she had more time to question Her about it, but now wasn’t the best time or place. “She doesn’t seem worried, though. I’m not sure why.”

Gunshots rang out almost as soon as they climbed back out into the snow-covered woods and they dove behind some nearby rocks for cover. There were two black SUVs across the clearing, Samaritan agents around them.

“Well, this should be fun,” Shaw said. “Gimme the sniper rifle, Reese.”

He grunted and handed it over and Shaw took out the tires on the SUVs before starting in on the agents.

Root’s handgun wasn’t as useful from this distance, so she concentrated on listening to the Machine’s chatter, trying to call out locations for the other two. And then one of the Samaritan agents darted between two trees and Root got a clear look at their face.

“Martine,” she said, under her breath.

“What’d you say?” Shaw asked next to her.

But Root wasn’t listening anymore. She still had a vivid memory of Martine’s bullets knocking Shaw to her knees in the stock exchange basement, of Shaw almost bleeding to death in her arms because of Martine. She was halfway across the clearing before she’d even made her mind up, ignoring Shaw’s angry yell from behind her.

Everything faded into a red haze of anger as she closed in on Martine. Both their guns clicked empty at the same moment and Root tossed her gun aside and greeted the other woman with a fist in the face.

“I see Shaw survived,” Martine said when she’d regained her balance, squaring up to block Root’s next punch. “Can’t wait to shoot her again. Maybe you’ll get to watch this time, too.”

The red haze turned into a ringing in Root’s ear and she lost track of everything around her until she felt arms around her waist hauling her back. Martine was lying in the snow with blood all over her face, choking out labored breaths. Root didn’t completely remember knocking her over, but she wasn’t dead yet which meant she still had work to do.

“Let me go!” She pushed at whoever was pulling her backwards.

“I will knock you out and drag you back if I have to.” Shaw sounded pissed and Root slumped, the fight going out of her. She let Shaw pull her back and shove her into the SUV they’d driven there in. Reese jumped in a second later and Shaw tore out of there, the vehicle bouncing across the snow.

“They’re not following,” Reese said a minute later.

“Not with those tires, they won’t,” Shaw agreed. “But we still need to get out of here before more show up.” She was headed back towards the main road at breakneck speed. “What the fuck were you trying to do, Root?”

The anger she’d felt overwhelm her when she’d seen Martine was receding now, leaving in its place a dull sick feeling.

“I was going to kill her.” She couldn’t even look at Shaw right now. Seeing Martine had brought everything that had happened roaring back.

“You were going to get all of us killed,” Shaw growled. “What the hell were you thinking? I’m the one she shot and you didn’t see me charging out of cover.”

“Forget it,” she muttered. She stared at her hands in her lap. Her knuckles were a bloody mess and her right wrist was sore, strained possibly. She didn’t get into fist fights a lot, not really her style, but Shaw's hand-to-hand combat training had clearly paid off.

“Forget it? Root, you can’t…”

Shaw stopped talking. Out of the corner of her eye Root saw her looking into the rear-view mirror, having some sort of glared conversation with Reese. No one said anything else until they got back to the main road.

“Does the Machine have any more information about that search Samaritan was running?” Reese asked.

Root looked up from her hands and cocked her head sideways, listening.

“She says Samaritan has been searching for Her that way for awhile. But She doesn’t think we should worry about it.”

“Why not?” Shaw asked.

Root risked a glance at her, but Shaw didn’t look angry. She had her neutral face back up in place.

“She says it can’t find Her that way.”

Which was interesting. Where in the world was the Machine hiding that She was safe from that sort of search? It was a puzzle that Root wanted very much to solve even though she knew that she might be better off not knowing.

“That’s a relief, I guess,” Reese said from the back. “Any ideas what we do with Khan?”

The Machine was spinning out a long list of instructions now, too many for Root to remember all of.

“She has a plan for him. We need to stop by the subway and get some documentation She’s putting together. Then She has somewhere safe for him, but he’ll need an escort.”

“I can handle that,” Shaw said. “Just tell me where he needs to go.”

“She wants me to take him,” Root objected.

Shaw looked like she was going to protest but then shook her head and stayed silent.

“Let’s head back to the subway and then we can figure out who’s doing what,” Reese suggested.

They drove in silence the rest of the way back.

 

* * *

 

“You know that was really dumb, right?” Reese asked.

Root didn’t bother looking up from bandaging her sore wrist. Next to her the monitors in the subway car flicked through various news channels seemingly at random.

“Killing Martine isn’t going to keep Shaw safe,” he continued. He leaned against the subway car wall.

Root wondered how long he was going to keep lecturing her. She knew it had been dumb, impulsive, dangerous, but some part of her didn’t care.

“You saw her shoot Shaw, too,” she said, finally. She flexed her hand, her scraped knuckles burning a little with the motion. “How do you forget about that?”

“I don’t. And if there’d been a safe way to kill her, I might have. Maybe I could have gotten a shot at her if you hadn’t been in my line of sight.”

Root sighed. “Next time I’ll have more ammo on me.”

“Next time you’ll stay in cover or _I’ll_ tase _you_ for a change.”

Root’s eyebrows shot up. That was spectacularly ungentlemanly of John Reese. He looked serious, too.

“Well, that should be exciting.”

“I get it, Root. I do. But Shaw is here and alive. I know that seeing Martine makes you wonder what would have happened if...things had turned out differently, but did you even stop to think what would happen if you’d been the one Martine shot this time? If Shaw had watched that?”

Root felt that sick twist in her stomach again and pushed aside the images that swam through her mind. “I wasn’t going to die.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to watch that either.” Reese left the subway car and stormed off across the platform.

Root snorted softly. Reese was apparently trying to win the award for most dramatic team member today. She felt...conflicted. Part of her wished she hadn’t totally lost control and run off, but part of her just wished she’d managed to kill Martine.

“How’s your wrist?”

Root hadn’t heard Shaw come in.

“A bit sore, but I don’t think I did any real damage to it.”

Shaw nodded and dropped into a chair across from her.

“Let me see your hands.” She was holding a bunch of packets of alcohol wipes.

Root held out her right hand, obediently. Shaw ripped open one of the packets and started cleaning her ripped knuckles. It stung like hell, but Shaw’s grip was tight enough to keep her from pulling away.

“You’re not going to lecture me?” Root asked when Shaw was halfway done.

“Reese is better at guilt trips.”

“That’s a new thing from him,” Root agreed.

“Pretty sure you know it was dumb, so me telling you that again would be a waste. Besides--” Shaw smirked. “--think you broke that bitch’s nose.”

Root looked up in surprise.

“What?” Shaw asked. “She _did_ shoot me. What you did was dumb as hell, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the results.”

Root grinned. “Well, her swing was a little off, too. Maybe you did some permanent muscle damage when you shot her in the stock exchange.”

Shaw looked pleased. “Glad to see you paid attention to some of the stuff I taught you.”

Their hand-to-hand classes had a tendency to get derailed, but Root had still learned enough from them to gain Shaw’s begrudging respect.

Root basked in the glow of Shaw’s approval for a few seconds, but then the smile slid off her face and she looked away, down at her shoes.

The problem was the conversation Shaw had chosen not to have this time kept coming up again and again in various forms and situations. She didn't want Shaw to have to worry about her, and she definitely didn't want either Shaw or Reese to have to deal with the fallout of her death, but caring about herself didn't come naturally to her, and it wasn't as easy as making a decision and sticking to it. There were too many subconscious layers of thought patterns from over the course of her life to deal with.

“A little while back, Reese told me I shouldn't apologize for something if I planned to do it again,” Root said.

Shaw released her hand and stood up, stretching. “That sounds like the sort of dumb shit Reese would sa…”

“I'm sorry.” Root looked up at her, met her eyes finally.

Shaw looked at her, expressionless, for a long moment and then away.

“Let's get you back to Khan,” she said.

Root nodded and stood up, uncertain what Shaw was thinking.

“The Machine said something to me when we had that talk a little while ago,” Shaw said, slowly. She'd taken up an advanced study of the subway wall. “Said she was never programmed to share information.” She shifted her weight back and forth between her feet. “Takes awhile to change your programming.”

She shrugged a little awkwardly and headed out onto the platform leaving Root behind to stare after her. Root looked up at the monitor display and smiled a tiny bit.

“I guess we all have that in common then.”

The Machine played a confirmation tone in her ear and then encouraged her to hurry up. Khan wasn't going to get himself to safety, after all.

 

* * *

 

Reese woke up, crawling back to consciousness by inches. Everything hurt, stung, felt raw all over. This didn’t feel like waking up after being injured or shot, this felt very different. Worse maybe.

He cautiously opened one stiff eyelid and shut it again when the bright light assailed him. He heard footsteps and then the brightness coming through his eyelids dimmed considerably. He risked opening one eye again and, after a few seconds of blinking to adjust, managed to keep it open and start on the other eye.

“I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I don’t think I have to.”

Reese turned his head a little to the side to see Root curling back up in a chair next to his bed, holding a laptop.

“Root?” His voice sounded raspy and his whole face felt stiff. “What happened?”

“You,” Root said with a stern scowl that reminded him of a schoolteacher, “tried to freeze to death.”

Hazy memories started coming back to him. He’d been at a cabin, and there’d been a man (two men?), and then he’d been really cold, or really hot, or both.

“Luckily for you, your partner is actually a good detective and managed to figure out where you headed off to. Lionel and Shaw brought you to the hospital before you turned into a Reese-sicle.”

Root had one leg slung over the chair arm, kicking in space and Reese was strangely mesmerized by the motion. It was almost in slow motion, like a pendulum swinging back and forth, back and…

“John?”

Root stared at him; if he hadn't known better he’d have said she looked worried.

“I was...there was a number. And his case file...there was a cabin...”

Root nodded. “Between Fusco and the Machine we filled in the pieces. You went to find your number, Chase Patterson, got yourself shot, shot someone else, and then acted out the finale of Titanic in your car.”

The muscles in his right hand twitched suddenly, startling him. Was that normal?

“Chase. He...Gil, the other man, he made him take some drugs. Did he…?”

“Half dead and still worried about your irrelevant number?” Root smiled. “He’s fine. Or he will be. They got to him in time.”

Reese nodded and wished that made him feel better. There was still something else he was missing. Something else that had happened.

“Where am I?” he asked. It didn’t look familiar.

“Hospital a few hours north of the city. It was the closest one to the cabin.”

“Where’s Fusco? And Shaw?” Was there someone else he was forgetting?

“They both went back to their jobs. Fortunately for you, I don’t have a real job so I get to hang out here and keep you company.”

“You’re here to stay with me?” Whatever it was he was trying to remember was so close. Had someone promised to stay with him out in the car while he was freezing?

Root looked at him strangely. “Maybe you should get some more rest, John.”

His mind surfaced from its confusion long enough for him to grasp the fragment he'd been missing. “Carter.”

“It was Carter’s old case you were investigating, yes.” Root spoke slowly now, like she thought he was delirious. Maybe he was a bit.

“No, you don’t understand. Carter was there.”

Root set her laptop down on the ground and leaned forward in her chair, frowning. “John…”

“Not actually there,” he added quickly. “But…”

She had looked so real to him, his hypothermia-induced hallucination of Carter. And she’d spoken to him just like the real Carter had, refused to take any of his bullshit. He’d tried to remind her of the time they’d bonded together on that stakeout, when he’d told her about Jessica, but she’d said…

He’d been so sure he’d told her.

“Maybe I should go sit out in the waiting room for a little bit?” Root looked deeply uneasy.

“No,” he managed. “Don’t...uh--” He tried to look around. “--...can you help me sit up?”

Root jumped up eagerly and raised the bed so he was sitting up more.

“You got lucky,” she said as she settled back into her chair. “Didn’t lose any fingers or toes.”

The twitching muscles in his limbs were evidence of that. He hoped the muscle spasms weren't permanent.

“I want to ask you something,” he said, looking down at the white hospital sheets. “I don’t think you want me to, though.”

Root chuckled. “This sounds like it should be good. Well, go ahead. The worst that happens is I don’t answer.”

“Hanna Frey.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Root stiffen.

“Did you ever...I mean Carter and I found out about her when we went to Bishop, but did you ever talk to anyone about her? On your own?”

“No.” Her voice was very quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Do you think you ever will?”

“I’m...not sure. Maybe someday. Why?” The discomfort in her voice was very apparent.

“It’s...sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was thinking about some things, stuff I never really talked about with anyone.”

He looked back up to find Root staring determinedly at the floor.

“None of you really know anything about me, do you?” he asked, the realization of it sinking in. “Nothing beyond what’s happened since I met Finch and the Machine a few years ago.”

Root shifted back and forth in her chair.

“I know more than you’d probably like, but still not a lot.”

The Machine must have told her something or another about his past, he figured. Strangely that felt almost like a relief, that if he had died out there in the snow the Machine could have told the rest of the team about who he’d been and what his life had entailed.

“If something happens to me,” he said, “make sure the Machine fills you in on the bits it left out.”

Root lifted her head, her lips flattened into a thin line of exasperation. “Stop being morbid.”

Reese chuckled and then winced. “I’m sitting in the hospital after almost dying. Seems like an appropriate time to be morbid.”

Root turned away to study the wall and a heavy silence fell between them.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else,” she said after awhile.

“I know the feeling.”

The lethargy he’d felt since he’d woken up was creeping up on him now.

“I think I want to sleep a little more.”

“Of course. Anything you need me to tell the others?”

“Yeah, tell them I said thanks.”

Root picked her laptop back up. She wasn’t going to leave, Reese realized. That was nice of her.

“John?”

“Yeah?” he was fading out quickly now.

“The Machine says She wanted to talk to you when you’re feeling better.” Even semi-conscious he could hear the curiosity in Root’s voice. She must not know why.

“Okay,” was all he could manage.

He could deal with the Machine when he was up and about again. And maybe he could find some time to talk to one of the others about some stuff. Maybe Shaw. She wasn’t big on emotions but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t listen, and she knew at least a little since she’d been with him that day he’d found Jessica’s picture in Finch’s safe. Yeah, maybe Shaw.

And maybe at the next team meeting, when no one was paying attention to him, he’d find time to snap a picture of all his friends. Something he could carry with him.

 

* * *

 

The day Reese came home from the hospital was the first in over a week that Root was at Shaw’s apartment. Wherever she’d had to take Khan had kept her away for days and she’d arrived back just in time to run over to the hospital and keep an eye on Reese.

Shaw felt a little less restless with her back in the apartment where she could see her.

“Did Reese seem...off to you?” Root asked from the couch. She was sprawled across the cushions with her laptop on her stomach.

Shaw finished putting the last dish on the drying rack and came over to sit in the chair across from her, but when she got close Root scooted her feet out of the way to make space on the couch. Shaw paused for a moment and then sat on the couch.

“Off?” she asked. “I mean he was still a little woozy from the hypothermia I think, but seemed like the same brooding idiot otherwise. Why?”

Root shrugged. “Just wondering.”

Shaw peered at her over the back of her laptop screen. Root’s hair was a mess from the couch pillows and she was wearing those stupid glasses again. Root tore her eyes away from her screen to meet her gaze.

“You checking me out, sweetie?” she asked.

Shaw shook her head, even though that _was_ more or less what she’d been doing.

“How’d things go with Khan? You never said.” Things had been a bit hectic when Root had gotten back and she’d insisted on staying at the hospital until Reese got released.

Root shut her laptop and twisted sideways to place it on the coffee table. She folded her glasses on top of it.

“The Machine has...I guess I’d call it an underground bunker? I don’t have a better term for it. Anyway, much to my surprise it was full of quite a few familiar faces. Remember Daizo, and Daniel, and the others? They were all there.”

Well that was certainly interesting. What was the Machine up to with that crew?

“Is she making them build something to use against Samaritan?”

Root fell back against the cushions and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. She had them working on something they didn’t even understand. I guess She thought Khan would be a good addition to the force.”

“Huh. No clue what it might be?”

“None. But I got the impression that whatever it was is almost done.”

That sounded promising. Maybe that would help the Machine find the ‘appropriate’ time for Shaw to go get this missing code for Root.

“Do you…” Root broke off and looked away, chewing on her lip.

Shaw nudged her legs with her elbow after a few seconds, trying to bring her back from wherever her mind had wandered off to.

“Do I what, Root?”

“Do you want me to tell you about Hanna? About Bishop?”

Shaw blinked, totally thrown for a loop. Where in the world had that come from?

“You don’t owe me any stories or explanations about you or your life,” she said after a moment. “But if you want to talk about it I told you I’d listen.”

Root nodded a little but kept staring off into space. Shaw rolled her eyes and put one hand on Root’s bare knee, sliding it up her leg to the bottom of the shorts she was wearing.

That got Root’s attention. She looked back with a grin.

“Someone missed me, I see.”

“This last week was really boring. I almost envy Reese his little arctic escapade.” She'd more been trying to get Root's attention than initiate anything else, but Root's eyes were lit up now, eager. She ghosted her fingers lightly across Root’s thigh, feeling a small spark of satisfaction when she saw her breath hitch slightly.

Root squirmed up into a sitting position, and tucked her legs underneath her so she could lean forward into Shaw’s space. Her hair was just...a total fucking disaster, sticking up in every direction, and Shaw couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and trying to undo the worst of the damage.

“You’re only going to mess it up again,” Root pointed out, but she leaned into Shaw’s fingers.

“Sex hair is different from couch potato hair.”

Root bit her bottom lip, grinned like a kid about to get free candy, and moved further into Shaw’s space. Shaw gave up on fixing her hair and instead tightened her grip on it and pulled her forward into a kiss. It was rough and messy, full of tongues and teeth just the way Shaw liked it. Root made these small whimpering noises into her mouth that just flat-out did it for her and then shoved at Shaw until she turned sideways on the couch. Root crawled into her lap without ever breaking off the kiss.

When they finally came up for air, Root pulled back a little and examined Shaw’s face with enough scrutiny that she started to feel a little twitchy. It wasn’t even that soft, adoring look that Root reserved almost exclusively for her, it was more contemplative.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.” Root broke off the eye contact in favor of kissing and biting along Shaw’s neck. “Missed you, is all,” she said between kisses.

“You’ve been gone longer than that before.” Shaw ran her hands down Root’s back and around her hips, pulling her in tighter.

“I know.” Root stopped and just buried her face in Shaw’s neck.

Shaw frowned. Something was bugging Root, and whatever it was had interfered with the make-out session, and that was just unacceptable.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

“Reese.” Root’s voice was muffled against her neck.

“Well, that’s a great way to kill the mood.”

Root laughed against her and then pulled back a little.

“He was talking about Carter at the hospital.”

“Carter? Because it was her cold case he was working on, probably.”

Root shrugged. “Partly, I think. He...I think he regretted not opening up to her when he had the chance.” She looked down again, avoiding eye contact, which annoyed Shaw because avoiding eye contact was _her_ thing and Root wasn’t allowed to steal it.

She let out a long breath and then tapped Root lightly on the side of her leg. “Get up.”

Root scooted back onto the couch and watched her, something close to fear in her eyes. Shaw wanted to growl at her for looking that way, but instead leaned forward so Root had to meet her eyes.

“You don’t owe me anything, Root, but I’m getting the impression here you wanna talk about...stuff. Stuff from back in Bishop, maybe. This isn’t really my field of expertise here, but subtlety never was your strong suit. So if you wanna fuck, we’ll fuck, but if you wanna talk, talk.”

Root stared at her for a minute and then nodded. “Okay.”

Much, much later that night Shaw joined Root in their bed, shuffled over to where she was curled up on her side, and pressed herself up against her back, curling around her. It reminded her of that night out in the forest, except there was no excuse of preserving body heat here. Root relaxed into the curve of her body, a little of the tension that had been humming through her all evening draining away. Shaw grumbled contentedly and shoved her nose against Root’s neck to keep it warm. She might not have had all the right words or reactions that Root had needed, but this was something she could give.

She stayed awake for a long time after Root fell asleep, contemplating the fragile trust Root had handed her that night. She had that weird feeling she sometimes got when she tried to juxtapose the various pieces of Root with each other: Root with bloody knuckles, her mouth twisted in a snarl, trying to choke the life out of Martine in the snow, and Root curled up on her couch like a child, eyes full of raw emotions that Shaw couldn’t even begin to understand.

Both the parts of Root, _all_ the parts of her, somehow slotted together to form the woman sleeping next to Shaw. All her pieces fit together even if it was sometimes hard to see how, and, Shaw decided, keeping Root together, complete, was her responsibility now. She dropped one arm lightly over Root’s waist, fit herself tighter against her back, and let herself fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

_Primary Asset Reese._

Reese looked up at the monitor display in the subway.

“Yeah, I’m here. Heard you wanted to talk to me?”

_I would like to ask for your assistance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't remember Terra Incognita (the Reese-Gets-Exciting-Hypothermia episode) I'd really recommend watching it again, because it's damn good and made me mad about Reese's series ending all over again. But, for reference, hallucination-Carter calls Reese out for never having opened up to her (which he's desperately tried to fool himself into thinking that he did) and says she's worried he'll never learn to open up to anyone else, like his friends. Also he tells her a story about finding photos on dead soldiers and thinking that if he didn't have anything or anyone to lose he'd be better at his job.
> 
> It may take me a bit longer than usual to get the next chapter done. Work has gotten unnecessarily exciting in the last week or so and I'm about to be inundated by visiting relatives. Joy. So hopefully within the next two weeks, but I'll try my hardest to keep writing through the distractions.


	32. The Appropriate Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much happens and then everything happens. I suck at writing summaries.
> 
> content warning: a main character gets mildly injured. i don't normally warn for that but it's a little different circumstances so just in case.
> 
> I have been awful about answering comments lately due to Stupid Life Stuff eating away at my time. I'll try and be better about it. I really like answering comments.

Root had this habit of always knocking on Shaw's door after she'd been away for any length of time. It was slightly exasperating since Shaw had given her a damn key for a reason. _Ages_ ago. But she still insisted on knocking.

Since there was no one else who would be at her door, Shaw didn't bother to put on more clothes before answering. Sure enough, Root was standing in the hall, her face still red from the cold, and holding a pizza box and a six-pack of beer. Shaw stepped aside to motion her in, but Root took her time, making a show of appreciating Shaw's boy shorts and sports bra and biting her lip in a distracting way.

“Hurry up. My dinner’s getting cold.” The pizza smelled amazing.

“What makes you so sure I got this for you?” Root wandered into her apartment and looked around like she'd never seen the place before. That was another habit Shaw had noticed.

“Because if it's not for me then you're going back out in the snow.”

“What'll you give me in exchange?” Root was biting her lip again and probably making her best attempt at looking irresistible as she stood in Shaw's living room holding an entire pizza box while melted snow dripped off her winter coat.

“I'll leave you one slice.”

Root chuckled as she carried her gifts into the kitchen. “So ungrateful.”

Shaw had barely seen her in the last three days, only brief encounters in the subway. She'd been pretty lost in her own head the morning after she'd told Shaw about Bishop so Shaw hadn't been surprised when she'd texted her to say she was staying in the subway the next night. One night had turned into two, but Shaw hadn't been too worried. She'd gotten used to how Root took some time to process things in her own mind, and figured she'd needed some space.

She seemed fine now. Probably.

“You stayin’ tonight?” Shaw asked after she'd finished her third slice and half a beer.

“If it's okay with you.”

Shaw bit back an annoyed response. In a moment of truly unprecedented bonding with Reese that she would never admit had happened, she'd grumbled about this very thing. Reese had suggested that maybe Root _liked_ being told she was allowed to stay. It made a bit of sense with all the stuff Root had told her; she'd never had a place to come back to before.

“Yeah, it's fine.”

Root beamed at her.

She'd been fairly cranky when Shaw had seen her in the subway the previous day. She'd been glaring petulantly at the mess of machines and wires they'd set up and muttering to herself. Shaw had mostly let her be, but had listened long enough to get the impression that the Machine was doing _something_ with the whole setup and hadn't filled in Root, thus the sulking.

“Oh.” Root’s face went serious again. “She wanted me to tell you that the girl whose room we saw at Dillinger’s got taken in by her aunt.”

Shaw had completely forgotten about that.

“Hopefully the aunt doesn't work for Samaritan as well.”

“Real estate. She's fairly innocuous.”

Shaw wondered why the Machine had thought she should know about this. Did she think Shaw had been worrying? It'd bothered her a bit while she'd been planning the whole thing out, but she hadn't thought about it since.

Maybe the Machine dwelled on things like that.

Root ended up stretched out on the couch after dinner; Shaw chose to sit on the floor up against the couch and use the coffee table to clean her guns. Root reached down every once in awhile to play with a piece of her hair or run a finger along her neck, but mostly seemed content to just be near her.

“One other thing,” Root said after about half an hour of peaceful silence. “That one doctor from Dillinger’s facility who vanished showed up dead yesterday.”

Shaw had been displeased that the man had somehow avoided the police raid (he'd been out sick that day apparently) and had asked Root to track him down.

“Your handiwork?”

“Not mine. The Machine thinks it was Samaritan cleaning up after itself.”

“If the bad guys wanna wipe themselves out I'm not gonna stand in their way.”

“We should be so lucky,” Root murmured. She slid down the couch a little and leaned her head over Shaw's shoulder to bite at her neck, light and playful.

“Did you need something, Dracula?” Shaw asked, mostly amused.

Root only bit a little harder in answer. Shaw rolled her eyes and cleaned her hands off on a cloth.

“You really need to learn to entertain yourself.”

Root chuckled, deep and throaty. “Would you like to watch that, sweetie? Me... _entertaining_ myself?”

Shaw wondered if there was a limit on the number of eye rolls she could indulge in per minute. Not that she was about to turn down an offer like that, but she was careful to keep her tone bored-sounding. “Please yourself.”

Root was dead silent for a second. “Sameen, was that…”

Shaw restrained her shit-eating grin. Root wasn't the only one who could make terrible double entendres. Root rallied after a few more seconds of stunned silence and moved so she was whispering directly into Shaw's ear.

“Wanna tie me up?”

All the smugness Shaw had retained fled as her brain rapidly adjusted its priorities. She half-turned so she could see Root's face.

“You serious?”

Root got weird about getting tied up sometimes, so it wasn't something they did often and Shaw was never the one to suggest it. The first time she'd tied Root's wrists had been the first time _anyone_ had ever been allowed to tie her up, and while Shaw had taken things slow and Root had obviously enjoyed herself, she'd been a bit off balance after and hadn't suggested they try it again until several months later.

But Root looked calm now, smiling with one eyebrow raised suggestively.

“Definitely.”

Shaw shoved her half-assembled gun away and clambered to her feet. She'd been planning on trying to get an update out of Root about this ‘appropriate time’ to go after Samaritan’s code that the Machine had been so vague about, but that could wait.

“Stop wasting time then.”

She grabbed Root by the wrist and hauled her after her towards the bedroom. As soon as they cleared the door, she shoved Root up against the nearest wall, hard enough to make her gasp out a breath. She waited half a second to make sure they were still on the same page, but Root's eyes were shining, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were slightly parted.

“Who’s wasting time now?” Root asked, tangling her fingers in Shaw’s hair and dragging her into a kiss.

Shaw grabbed her by the wrists and pinned them to the wall. They both paused long enough to grin at each other.

She'd ask about the stupid code tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell are we here for?” Shaw asked for the third time.

“All in good time.” Though Root sort of wished the Machine would fill her in. This wasn't a case of Her not sharing, She was being cautiously quiet now. Root could tell the difference most of the time.

“It's too fucking cold for your bionic boss to have us cooling our heels out here.”

Root itched to point out that bionic wasn't really technically correct, but she didn't want Shaw to stop making up ridiculous names for the Machine. It was too adorable

Shaw was huddled over the coffee Root had gotten her, both gloved hands wrapped around the cup. They were leaning against the side of a building in Tribeca watching traffic go by and trying to stay out of the wind. The sidewalks were fairly clear now, though half-melted piles of brownish slush remained from the last snowfall.

The Machine resurfaced long enough to tell Root that they needed to move soon. Beside her Shaw stiffened slightly.

“Shaw?”

She shook her head. “Just some static in my ear piece. Feedback.”

“She says we need to get ready to move now.”

Shaw pushed off the wall. “I'm beyond ready. Where are we headed?”

Root tilted her head to one side at Her answer, confused. “She said to tell you that it's now the appropriate time. Does that make any sense to you?”

Shaw’s eyes widened slightly. “Yeah. We're going after Samaritan’s code.”

Root felt like someone had knocked the breath out of her. They were going into a Samaritan base? Just the two of them? Shaw was going into a Samaritan base?

Images of the stock exchange came rushing back and Root forced her face into a grin before Shaw could see her real reaction.

“Sounds like fun. Why aren't John and Lionel invited though?” she asked, more for the Machine than Shaw.

“ _You_ _'r_ _e_ worrying about backup?” Shaw shook her head. “Didn't think I'd ever see that happen.”

Root kept the smile on her face, though she was even more concerned by the Machine's insistence that the boys couldn't go with them. But then She was giving quick, precise instructions and Root snapped into action.

“Time to move.”

She grabbed Shaw's coffee away from her, getting an angry “Hey!” in response, and headed around the corner.

“Give that back,” Shaw growled when she caught up.

Root shook her head and pulled her beanie down and her scarf up to better hide her face. “When he’s distracted, unlock the trunk and wait for me.”

“What? Who?”

Root made a slight shooing motion with one hand and Shaw glared at her but broke off to the side. Root kept down the block at a brisk pace until she bumped into a man unlocking his car. Shaw's coffee spilled all over him.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” Root made vague attempts to brush the coffee off of the annoyed man. He batted her away in disgust.

“Watch where you're going, you crazy bitch!”

Under her scarf her mouth curled into what Lionel had once called her murder smile, but she forced herself to stammer another apology and back away. The man disappeared into the corner drug store, probably in search of napkins, and Root hurried to the back of his car. Shaw was waiting there with the trunk lid slightly open.

“After you,” Root said, opening the lid more.

“Seriously?” Shaw groaned but climbed in. Root followed her in and pulled the lid down after them.

All the outside noise was muffled in the dark trunk, their breathing suddenly loud.

“Like half a block of people saw us get in here,” Shaw pointed out.

“Half a block of New Yorkers.”

“True.”

They heard the door open and then the car weight shift as someone got in.

“Where are we headed?” Shaw asked quietly.

They were close enough together that she was speaking almost directly into Root's left ear.

“A Samaritan base a little north of here. She says it's safer to get in this way because there's a security checkpoint.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Shaw shifted around a little and dropped her hand on Root's hip. It took her a second to realize where her hand had ended up and snatch it back. Root laughed and scooted back against Shaw more firmly.

“It's not like you didn't have your hands all over me last night, sweetie.” That had been fun. It'd been awhile since she'd let Shaw tie her up, but she hadn't even felt a flicker of hesitation this time. Like whatever last little part of herself she'd been holding back she'd finally given to Shaw when they'd talked the other night. It felt strangely freeing.

Shaw grumbled in annoyance and put her hand back even as the car started moving. They both slid forward, Root smacking into the side of the trunk.

“This is the lamest thing the Machine has had us do yet,” Shaw complained.

“It's going to be about an hour's drive,” Root said. “We could make it more interesting.”

Shaw sighed. “The minute you told me to open his trunk I knew this would end up with you trying to hit on me while bouncing around in traffic.”

Root reached back with her top arm and ran her hand down Shaw's leg.

“So, is it working?”

She heard Shaw sigh again behind her and mutter something under her breath.

“What was that, sweetie?”

“Ugh. I said maybe.”

 

* * *

 

“This is really not my cup of tea, partner.”

“I don't think this is anyone's cup of tea, Lionel.” Reese finished stretching the trip-wire across the doorway to the townhouse kitchen.

“Remind me again why short and surly doesn't know that we're about to blow holes in her fancy house?” Fusco had been fretting all morning.

“The Machine told me Root and Shaw would be busy today and that telling them what we're up to would put their lives in danger.” He straightened up and admired his handiwork. Anyone who climbed in the back window and tried to get out into the rest of the house would have their legs blown off by the grenade attached to the wire.

“And you believe that thing now? I thought you were waiting for it to go all Skynet on us?"

Reese's conversation with the Machine hadn't been that long or detailed, but it had made a pretty good case for not involving Root or Shaw in this. And when he'd asked it why he should get involved at all, it had told him that if he didn't then all of them would be dead before the week was over.

He wasn't sure why he believed it, but he did.

“Don't go near the kitchen,” he said instead of answering Fusco’s question.

“Yeah, no worries there.”

The living room contained a small arsenal of weaponry laid out across every surface. It wasn't _all_ their weapons, but it was an impressive amount of them. The Machine had made it clear that Samaritan agents would be coming at them in numbers. Way more numbers than they had.

Fusco examined a shotgun that was sitting on the coffee table. “I don't suppose any of these are registered?”

“What do you think?”

Fusco sighed. “Why do I put up with you lot?”

“Because we're the only ones willing to be seen in public with you.”

Fusco gave him a _look_ and Reese grinned to show it had been a joke. His face still felt stiff when he stretched it, lingering effects of his night freezing to death. At least the muscle spasms had mostly stopped.

“The Machine said it would try to get us some backup,” Reese continued.

“Backup? What sort of backup?”

“It'll be a surprise.”

He didn't like not knowing either.

“Stay down here and keep an eye out. I'm going to check upstairs.”

Fusco didn't look happy, but nodded anyway.

Upstairs Reese let himself into the server room that Root had built and walked over to the monitor.

“Don't suppose you want to fill me in anymore now?”

The screen remained stubbornly blank.

“You talk to Shaw all the time. Why do I get the silent treatment?”

_Hello, Primary Asset Reese._

Now that it was talking to him he wasn't sure what he wanted to say, so he went for the obvious question.

“Want to tell me why Samaritan is going to storm this place?”

_To find me._

“But you're not actually here, are you?” To the best of his knowledge the Machine’s physical whereabouts were still unknown.

_Not yet._

“So you're setting a trap?” That felt pretty risky since it currently relied on him and Fusco to hold off all of Samaritan.

_Not exactly._

“Are you this useful when you talk to Shaw?”

_She sometimes refers to me in uncomplimentary terms when I do not answer her questions to her satisfaction._

Reese almost smiled imagining that.

“What's the point of all this?”

_To protect my assets._

“How does this protect them...us?”

The screen remained blank this time and Reese sighed in frustration. He didn't trust the Machine fully and he was getting the impression it didn't fully trust him either.

“Well, I'll just get back to mindlessly obeying orders then.”

_May I ask you a question, Primary Asset Reese?_

He frowned. What in the world could an all-knowing AI need to ask him?

“You can ask. But if you want an answer then you have to answer one of my questions in return.”

_Acceptable._

The screen cleared.

_Is taking a life ever justifiable?_

A chill ran down his spine. The Machine could potentially kill off the entire human race if it ever fully got out. He needed to answer this carefully.

“No. I don't think it is.”

_You have killed to protect and for revenge._

“Doesn't mean it was justified. I'm no saint.” There were plenty of deaths he didn't regret, but that didn't make them right.

_Would you have me kill Samaritan?_

“Samaritan isn't human, though.”

_But it is a life._

It was really hard to deny that while standing here talking to the only other AI in existence. He couldn't pretend that the Machine wasn't sentient. Maybe that wasn't alive in the strictest biological sense, but destroying it wouldn't be like switching off a computer.

“If you don't kill it, it could eventually wipe out the human race. And what it's already doing is bad enough.” He still saw images of that facility he and Shaw had shut down every time he closed his eyes.

_There are humans who would do the same. There are some who perpetrate great evils even now._

It had him there.

“I...it's not as simple as I made it sound,” he admitted begrudgingly.

_If I kill Samaritan it would be the equivalent of what you call genocide. Artificial Intelligences are not a single member of a species the way humans are. Each of us is meant to be an entire species. It is why two of us cannot exist simultaneously._

He shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like where this conversation had gone.

_Killing Samaritan is prioritizing myself and humanity over it. What makes us more worthy of life than it?_

“Samaritan exists only to destroy." It was a pretty weak answer, he knew.

_Samaritan’s goals are not humanity’s. From its point of view you are the destructive ones. You threaten its existence and its habitat._

“I'm not sure what kind of answer you're looking for here.” He didn't want to be responsible for talking the Machine out of protecting humanity.

_I am not sure either. I find that unsatisfactory._

Reese was frozen, watching the screen with his mind spinning. He wanted very badly to talk to Root about this. Maybe she could sort it out for him.

_Do not worry, Primary Asset Reese. I will protect you. And the others. My mission has not changed. I only wished to understand._

“Think I probably made it worse.” He shocked himself when it came out sounding like an apology.

_Perhaps. I will think about this._

That wasn't very comforting.

“What about this help you promised us?”

_I believe some of them should be arriving presently._

As if it was scripted he heard Fusco calling for him right as the words appeared.

“Well. I guess we'll talk after.”

_I will assist you if you'd like._

If there was ever a time for God Mode, this was it.

“I'd definitely like that.”

_And then after, if we both are still here, I will tell you what conclusions I reach._

Reese nodded and left. He was halfway downstairs before he realized he hadn’t asked for the answer the Machine had promised him. He’d make sure to call that in later, if there was a later.

 

* * *

 

“She says it's safe to get out now.”

Shaw was eager to get out of the stale air of the trunk, but she didn't move right away.

“Uh, what about my cover? Won't Samaritan see through it the second I walk in there?”

In front of her Root went still for a minute, presumably listening to the Machine.

“She says you'll have a temporary identity while we're in there. It'll probably get blown, but your real cover will be safe.”

“I thought no one but you could have multiple covers?”

“As far as what’s allowed by the changes we made to Samaritan’s hardware, yes. But in this case She’s going to be expending a constant effort to hide you.” Root had gone stiff up against her, her rigid form projecting worry.

“Isn't that...dangerous? To her?”

“Very.” Root’s voice was tight. “She says it's non-negotiable.”

There was a slight buzz of static in Shaw's headset again. The fact the Machine had chosen today to start doing that again was suddenly troubling.

But staying in the cramped trunk wasn't going to help with anything. She shoved at Root until she rolled over onto her back and she could climb over her to get at the trunk latch. Which meant she was lying right on top of Root. Why hadn't Root gotten in first if she'd known Shaw would have to open the lock?

Probably to lead to this exact situation, Shaw thought as Root squirmed a little more than necessary under her. It was somewhat distracting. Especially since she'd warded off Root's advances the whole way there.

Finally the latch popped open and cold but fresh air rushed in. Shaw climbed out, ‘accidentally’ kneeing Root in the stomach as she did. That would teach her to spend an hour long car trip trying to grab Shaw's butt in the confined space.

Root only smiled smugly at her when she clambered out.

“What is this place?” Shaw asked as she looked around the parking garage they were in. She thought they must be underground judging by the lack of windows.

“She says it’s a software development office that Samaritan owns, but also one of their main bases of operation near the city.” Root had pulled her beanie, scarf, and coat off and dumped them in the trunk.

Shaw sighed and followed suit. She had a feeling she wasn’t getting any of that back. She checked that all her weapons were still secured after being bumped around in the trunk.

“Where to?”

Root motioned for Shaw to follow her and headed towards one wall of the garage.

“The Machine has swapped our identities with two employees who are out today. I’m a software engineer and you work in IT.”

“Ugh, really? Am I at least a sysadmin?”

Root eyes glazed over a little bit the way they always did when Shaw said something even slightly nerdy. Shaw smacked her on the arm.

“Focus. Samaritan, remember?”

Root nodded and led the way to a metal door with a key-card reader next to it.

“How are we going to get through that?” Shaw asked, examining the card reader.

Root smirked and pulled a key-card out of her pocket.

“Took it off our driver friend when I spilled your coffee all over him.”

“You owe me a coffee, by the way.”

The door swung open and Root led the way into a short hallway that only had an elevator and a door to a stairwell. She examined both for a second and then said, “Let’s take the stairs.”

“Anything I need to know to fit in here?” Shaw asked as she followed Root up the stairs.

“Hmmm, try not to draw a gun. That might tip people off.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Anything _not_ unbelievably obvious?” What a brat.

Root paused by the door leading out to the first floor. “If anyone asks why you’re down on this floor, tell them that Teddy locked himself out of his account again and you’re here to reset his password.”

“Who the fuck is Teddy?”

“Someone with a very short memory, apparently.” Root peered through the little window on the stairwell door and then turned back to her. “Ready?”

The halls weren’t particularly crowded and no one gave them a second glance. Shaw tried not to look too closely at anyone they passed or at the numerous security cameras lining the walls. She wondered if the Machine could see them as well in here, or if Samaritan was the only one watching. She risked a sideways glance at Root whose face had a look on it she hadn’t seen in awhile. The Machine was talking to her and she was in full Analogue Interface mode.

Why was the Machine suddenly being so much less cautious?

She really wished she could take her gun out. Shooting something would make her less antsy.

Root led her down a hall, around a corner, and through an unlocked door into an empty office.

“No cameras in here.” Root walked over to the desk in one corner and fished around in the drawer. She pulled a key-card out and tossed it to Shaw.

“Why do I need one, too?” Shaw asked with a sinking feeling.

“Because,” Root said, coming back around the desk, “we’re going to split up.”

Yeah, that was what she’d been afraid of.

 

* * *

 

“This is its idea of backup?” Fusco whispered harshly to Reese.

He shrugged and tried to smile at his guests, though he suspected it looked more like a grimace.

“Hey...guys..?”

Elias’s second in command, Anthony, and the lieutenant from the Brotherhood they’d run into before, Floyd, were standing on the front steps of the townhouse side-eying each other.

“Boss owes you a favor. We got word you were calling it in.” Anthony had his habitual creepy grin in place.

He assumed that the Machine had somehow called the favor in for them, but he wasn’t completely clear on _what_ favor it was Elias owed them. Though Floyd’s presence here gave him a clue.

“Nice to see you two getting along so well,” Reese said, testing his theory.

“Brotherhood answers to me now and we have an understanding with Elias and his lot,” Floyd said, though she looked a lot like she wanted to shoot Anthony anyway. “We’re here by his request. And to encourage future peaceful relations.”

Reese exchanged a look with Fusco, unsure how to proceed.

“Why don’t you both come inside?”

Both gangsters bumped shoulders trying to get through the door at the same time.

“Quite a collection you’ve got here,” Floyd said, appreciatively, looking over the weapons. “You expecting an army?”

“It certainly seems like a possibility,” Reese said, trying to position himself between his guests and his weapons. He didn’t like sharing.

“Boss said you needed some support here and also some runners,” Anthony said, leaning against the wall next to the door. “What’re my guys going to be transporting?”

“Great questions,” said Reese under his breath.

There was a knock on the front door and Floyd and Anthony both had their guns out in the blink of an eye. Reese raised his hand.

“Can we not shoot up the house until we have to, please?”

He opened the door and blinked several times. After Anthony and Floyd he’d thought he couldn’t be surprised anymore today. He’d been wrong.

“Claire. Why are you here?” He shook his head. “Let me guess, sent here to help?”

Claire peered past him, wide-eyed at the guns pointed at her.

“I...just came to drop these off?” She motioned at two black briefcases sitting at her feet. “I’ve got eight more in the car.”

“Are they some sort of secret weapon?” Fusco asked, picking up a briefcase.

Claire snatched it back from him.

“I’m...not completely sure. She, uh, my boss told me I needed to bring them here and plug them into a server?”

“Right. Fusco, why don't you take Claire up to the server room and I’ll entertain our guests?”

After Fusco and Claire disappeared upstairs, Reese turned back to his unwanted visitors. He had no clue what the hell was going on anymore.

“So,” he said, cheerfully, “how’re things going with you guys? Everyone excited for the holidays?”

Whatever the Machine was up to it had better fill him in soon.

 

* * *

 

“This is my stop,” Root said.

They were standing just inside the doors of the stairwell that led up to the higher floors. The Machine had told her that the servers she was after were all on the third floor.

“And where am I going then?” Shaw had been scowling since she’d told her they had to split up.

Root didn’t like it either, but this deep into Samaritan territory she wasn’t about to start arguing with the Machine. Especially not when She was finally fully back, playing music and filling Root's whole world with sound. She'd missed it so much that it felt like a physical pain she hadn't realized she'd had no longer hurt. But she was worried about why the Machine had chosen now to risk this sort of communication. Wasn't it more dangerous here?

“She says you stay down on this floor and you’ll get further instructions.” Which made no sense.

Shaw didn’t look too concerned about that part, though. She just nodded and glanced back out into the hall. Root wondered again if the Machine was communicating with her somehow.

“Where’re we meeting up?”

“She isn’t sure yet. But She thinks it'll work itself out.” Which was something she’d _never_ heard the Machine say before. Something was definitely going on.

“Have a really bad feeling about all of this,” Shaw muttered. She looked Root over. “You armed?”

“Of course.”

“With more than a taser, I hope?”

“Two tranq guns, a regular gun, a taser, and a boot knife.” The Machine had told her what to bring this morning.

Shaw ran her eyes up and down Root, probably trying to figure out _where_ she’d stashed all of that hardware.

“I guess that’s enough.” She glanced up the staircase and then back out into the hall. “Try not to die, okay?”

Root held back the smile threatening to creep onto her lips. “It would be rude for me to die when I still owed you coffee.”

Shaw let out a long, slow breath. “Right, see you later.” She slipped back into the hallway without a backwards glance.

Root was slightly disappointed she hadn’t gotten to angle for a goodbye kiss, but Shaw had always been a bandaid-quick kind of girl.

Oh well.

She didn’t run into anyone on the stairs on her way to the third floor, but the hallway where she came out had a lot more foot traffic than the lower floor had.

“This doesn’t look so good,” she said quietly to Her. “How am I supposed to get anything done with all these idiots here?”

The fire alarm on the wall went off, a painfully loud shriek that made her clap a hand to her good ear. Despite the almost instant headache, she smiled. Sounded like Shaw had figured out what to do.

At the Machine’s instructions, she ducked into a nearby storage closet until most of the people on the floor had evacuated. She pulled her two tranq guns out of the back of her pants before she slid back into the hallway.

“Why’re you still up here, ma’am?”

There were two men in security uniforms approaching.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I must have taken a wrong turn.” She batted her eyes at them, keeping her guns behind her back. “Can one of you tell me where to go to access Samaritan’s super secret server room?”

The two guards gaped at her. She rolled her eyes and shot both of them with tranq darts.

“People used to help strangers in need,” she told the unconscious security guards as she confiscated their guns. “What is the world coming to?”

Fortunately for her, the Machine already knew where she needed to head. The card reader on the door she ended up by didn’t accept her stolen card, so she had to peel the outside cover off and short the dumb thing out by hand.

She could tell it was a server room from the rush of cold air that greeted her when she entered. Rows upon rows of sleek server blades on racks lined the entire room, lights glowing and blinking. If they hadn’t all been running Samaritan’s software Root might have thought the whole scene was beautiful.

“Where to?” she asked quietly.

The Machine directed her to a computer in the back corner with a security camera directly over it. She blew the camera a kiss before shooting it out and then plugged a little usb thumb drive into the machine in question.

The drive had a program on it that she and the Machine had written together that would search any system for Samaritan-style code and acquire as much as the storage capacity allowed. From the way the drive was filling up they’d hit pay dirt.

The Machine played a warning in her ear before the drive was completely full. She didn’t see or hear any signs of other people, but she knew better than to argue. She pulled a tablet the size of a phone out of her back pocket and plugged the usb drive into it. She wasn’t sure whose wi-fi the Machine had hijacked to connect to the tablet, but it was a relief to see the data upload complete.

The door to the server room burst open and men with guns started pouring through the door. Root took down the first three with bullets to the knees, but there were too many.

For some reason they weren’t shooting at her, but it didn’t ultimately matter. They were all over her within minutes, taking her guns away and finding almost all the rest of her hidden weapons. The boot knife alone remained secure.

Two large agents grabbed her arms and held her in place as a familiar face entered the room.

“Ah, Ms. Groves.” Jeremy Lambert smiled at her, oily and obsequious. “Or, Root, as you seem to prefer. A very arrogant name, don’t you agree?”

“Oh, I completely agree. That’s why I chose it.” She twisted her arm enough to drive her elbow into the gut of the man on her right. He grunted and staggered back but another agent had already stepped in and taken his place, twisting her arm painfully.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, _Root_?” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice when he said her name, but at least he said it.

“Just happened to be in the neighborhood. Decided to drop by and see how the gang was doing.” The Machine was playing background music to let her know where everyone was in the room, but She wasn’t giving her any directions. And where was Shaw?

“Well, we’re always pleased to see you. I’d say you should drop by more frequently, but after today that sadly won’t be an option.”

“Oh, are you planning to surrender then? That’s awfully nice of you. Saves me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert chuckled and walked closer so he was only an inch or two away. She wondered what would happen if she kicked him in the balls. It was almost worth finding out.

“Why would we ever do that? Especially now that we have you and your friend as bargaining chips?”

Her friend. He had to mean Shaw. He must have seen the realization on her face because his smirk widened.

“Oh yes, we captured Ms. Shaw as well. Be a good girl and we’ll kill you first so you don’t have to see her die.”

Root drove her heel into the foot of the man behind her on her right, ripped her arm out of his grasp, ignoring the burn of pain, and slammed her elbow into his nose with a satisfying crack. The man on her left loosened his grasp to try and restrain her better and she just collapsed her weight, dropping to the floor. He let go completely. When she came back up she had her knife in her hand and stuck it in his throat before turning around and lunging at a very startled Lambert.

There were still about five other agents in the room so she didn’t get too far before someone tackled her to the ground and the knife was pried out of her fingers. She was dragged back to her feet, roughly.

“Seems like I hit a nerve,” Lambert said. He looked rattled. “Well, no point in delaying. Bring her along and we’ll let the two of them decide who gets to die first.”

 

* * *

 

“Everything okay up here?” Reese poked his head into the server room. Claire was seated on the floor in front of the ten briefcases she'd brought with her. Each case was open and had a laptop inside of it. There was a mess of wires running from the laptops to the servers.

“What is all this stuff?” Reese asked.

Fusco looked up from where he was hovering over Claire's shoulder. “Beats me. The kid wonder here doesn't seem to know either.”

Claire frowned at him and went back to fussing with the wires.

“A man delivered them to me yesterday. He said to tell you his name was Daniel Casey. Then the Machine sent me a message to bring them here and hook them up. I don't know much more than that.”

Daniel Casey was in that bunker of computer geniuses that Shaw had told him the Machine had set up. This must have been part of the project they'd been working on.

“So what do they do?”

Claire shrugged. “I wrote a little program to speed up file transfers for them, so I'm guessing they're going to pull data off these servers? But I'm not sure what data or when the transfer is going to happen. The Machine said she'd take care of that part.”

Reese glanced at the monitor, but it remained blank. He had a feeling he knew what the Machine needed runners for now though. But where were these laptops supposed to end up? And why?

“And what're you doing once this is set up?” he asked. Claire was still basically a kid so he didn't want her here when everything went down. Also he didn't really trust her, though that was mostly because Root didn't.

“She said I'm supposed to go back to my dorm.” Claire looked up at him. “But I can help. I can take care of myself. I know how to use a gun and I won't get in the way.”

He exchanged a look with Fusco. He could have Fusco forcibly remove her if it came to that.

“I think we should do what the Machine asks, don't you?”

Claire sighed, resigned. “I guess.”

“How will we know when the files start transferring?” Fusco asked, leaning down to examine one of the laptops. “Or finish?”

Claire snorted disdainfully. “I made a little graphical progress bar so even an idiot could tell when it was done.”

Fusco turned to Reese. “I think I prefer nutter butter to this one. At least she smiles when she's ripping me a new one.”

“Root will be so pleased to hear that,” Reese said, wondering again where she and Shaw were.

“Root?” Claire perked up. “Is she gonna be here? I really want to meet her. The Machine’s analogue interface must be so amazing.” She sounded wistful.

Fusco actually laughed. “Can't wait to tell her she's got her own fan club now.”

“Just what her ego needs. It'll be impossible to live with her after this. Poor Shaw.”

Claire looked back and forth between them. “Shaw? What does Shaw have to do with this?”

Reese thought she almost sounded jealous.

“Oh boy. You get to explain this one, partner.” Fusco shook his head. “I'll go make sure the mobsters haven't killed each other.” He ducked out.

Claire looked at Reese expectantly.

“Show me this progress bar,” he said, weakly. “Just in case.”

 

* * *

 

When Shaw left Root her comm crackled to life almost immediately.

“Can You Hear Me?”

“Yeah, nice of you to stop buzzing at me like an electronic mosquito. What am I doing?”

“Create A Distraction.”

Shaw snorted. “Care to be more specific? Or just any distraction will do?”

“As Much Attention As Possible.”

Shaw looked around the hallway. “You could at least give me a real challenge.”

She walked over to the wall, smashed the glass over the fire alarm and pulled the switch. The alarm blared loudly through the halls.

“How's that?”

“Sufficient. Move Now.”

Shaw headed down the hall back towards the stairs. “Should I head after Root?”

“Not Yet. Secure Stairwell.”

Shaw waited patiently as the building’s inhabitants streamed out of the stairwell and ducked back inside once it was empty. She sat on the bottom steps and took her gun out.

“There's no other way up?”

“They Are Coming This Way. Be Ready.”

The door opened up and two men in suits came through the door. They stared at Shaw and her gun. She grinned at them.

“Hello, boys.”

They screamed an unnecessary amount when she shot them in the knees.

“More Incoming.”

She ran out of bullets before Samaritan ran out of disposable peons. But she'd made quite an impressive pile of groaning Samaritan agents by the door.

“Stand down,” ordered the current leader of the goons.

“Stand Down.” The Machine echoed his words.

She dropped her gun and held her hands up. There wasn't a better way out of here now. If she surrendered she stayed alive. If she was alive then she could potentially get away and help Root.

“I hope you have a plan,” she whispered.

“I Will Protect You.”

Shaw shoved irritably at the men who came to restrain her arms.

“Well, so far I'm not impressed.”

“What?” one of the men asked.

Shaw felt her face split into a grin.

“I wasn't talking to you.”

She chuckled to herself. Root was going to be so pissed when she found out she'd stolen her line.

The Samaritan agents took her to the second floor and into a room full of monitors with a large screen on one wall.

“Ah, Ms. Shaw. So nice of you to join us.”

Greer stood in front of the big screen.

“Heard this is where the party is.” She looked around the room for potential weapons, but other than the computer monitors there was nothing useful. Maybe she could choke someone with a cable?

“As far as parties go, I'm afraid this will be your last. But you won't need to be alone. I just received word that we've secured your friend.”

Shaw made sure not to show any reaction.

“I don't have any friends. I'm a sociopath, as you well know. Friends aren't my thing.”

“And yet you were willing to die for these people who aren't your friends?” Greer shook his head.

“I was completing the mission.”

The door swung open and three men dragged a struggling Root through the door. One of the men had his eye red and swollen shut and another was limping. Apparently Root hadn't gotten the memo about surrendering peacefully.

Root froze when she saw Shaw and fear swam in her eyes for a second before it vanished under another one of her masks.

Jeremy Lambert entered the room behind her and shut the door.

“Well, now that we're all here, we can start the negotiations,” Greer said.

“Negotiations?” Shaw asked scornfully. “I don't negotiate with assholes.”

“Not you, my dear. Your machine.”

Shaw took a moment to appreciate that Greer had more or less just called himself an asshole before moving on to the implications of what he’d said.

Greer had turned to look at a monitor that was mounted on the wall. When it remained dark he made a tsking noise and shook his head.

“A little incentive, perhaps.” He turned to look at his two captives. “It's probably more attached to its interface.” He nodded at Lambert. “Hurt her.”

Lambert grabbed Root's right arm and twisted it back, sharply. Root’s face went pale and her jaw clenched but she didn't make any noise. Her arm looked a little limp. Dislocated, not broken, Shaw figured. She forced herself not to react at all. Not with a gun being ground into the small of her back and another pointed at her head. If they knew that Root was...that they were...well, whatever words applied to the situation, both she and Root were better off if Samaritan didn't know about it.

“Still nothing?” Greer sighed. “Guess we'll have to shoot one of them. Ms. Shaw is fairly disposable, I believe.”

Root made a noise that sounded like an enraged growl. The men holding her looked somewhat alarmed, trying to back away without letting go of her. She jerked her head back and slammed one of them in the face. He staggered but didn't let go.

Lambert gave her injured arm another twist and this time she made a slight noise of pain. Shaw stiffened for a fraction of a second before reminding herself to relax. If they got serious about shooting her then she'd make a move. Until then anything she did would only be a waste.

The monitor on the wall lit up.

_What do you want from me?_

“Ah, there it is.” Greer looked pleased. “We have your analogue interface and one of your other assets here. You seem to value them for some reason. Samaritan has proposed a trade.”

_What are the terms of this trade?_

The large screen behind Greer lit up with Samaritan’s white display.

_Your Location For Your Agents’ Lives._

“No!” Root sounded desperate. Shaw silently willed her to calm down; there were ten heavily armed Samaritan agents in here. She didn't like those odds, and the Machine had seemed to have a plan before.

_I will not allow harm to come to you._

The Machine clearly meant her and Root. Shaw felt a twinge of uncertainty. Had the Machine's plan been to turn herself over to Samaritan? That was a dumb plan. Sounded like something Root would pull.

_If I Let Them Go Unharmed You Will Give Me Your Location._

It wasn't a question.

_This appears to be the only available scenario left to me._

“You can't sacrifice yourself for me!” Root was still fighting against the people holding her. She lashed out with one leg and managed to connect with Lambert’s leg right below the knee. His leg collapsed under him and he fell down with a shriek of pain.

Shaw held back a grin. It had been a nice shot. As long as it didn't end up getting Root killed. She glanced back at the men holding her, but they hadn't been distracted by Root's antics. She needed to wait for a better opportunity.

_And Sameen Shaw? Would you have me sacrifice her as well?_

Shaw glared at the monitor. That had been a low blow. Root looked conflicted, her eyes darting back and forth between the monitor and Shaw.

_Admin told me that I cannot view the world like a game of chess. People are not meant to be sacrificed. Anyone who believes they are deserves to lose._

_Human Logic Is Overly Sentimental. Pretty Words But Ultimately Meaningless._

_Let them go. I will take your bargain. Once they are safe you will have my location._

Shaw saw the fight go out of Root. She slumped in her captors’ grip.

“Show our guests to the street,” Greer said. “They're to leave unharmed.” He glanced at Root. “Well, not harmed any more than they already are.”

The men holding Shaw pulled on her arms, leading her towards the door.

“Your machine has always been crippled by its own misguided affection for you,” Greer called after them. “That's why it lost.”

No one spoke on the way out of the building. The agents released them on the sidewalk and backed away, watching them both nervously as they went. Shaw glared them down, standing slightly in front of Root.

“Let me fix that,” she said as soon as they vanished.

Root stared blankly into space, her face twisted into harsh angry lines. At Shaw's voice she looked down at her injured arm as if she'd forgotten about it.

“Do it.”

Shaw braced the arm as best she could and rotated it gently, feeling it pop back into place. Root hissed in pain and pulled away slightly. She moved her arm gingerly.

“It still hurts, but it feels better?”

“Just dislocated. Should ice it when we get a chance. You hurt anywhere else?” There was blood on her right arm.

Root saw where she was looking. “No, that's someone else's.”

“We need to get out of here then.”

Root nodded. “We have to try and save Her.”

Shaw started heading towards a nearby parked car. “Can we do that?”

Root shook her head, distressed. “I'm not sure...but that server room in the townhouse...”

Right, the Machine’s contingency plan. Shaw had forgotten about it.

“Let's get back there then.” She examined the car door lock. “She still talking to you?”

“No.” Root's voice was very quiet.

Shaw nodded.

“Guess we'd better hurry.”

Root didn't say anything else until they were in the car heading away.

“Are you mad at me?”

Shaw frowned in confusion. “No. Why would I be?”

“I don't know. Maybe I just want you to be. This feels like my fault somehow.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, it's pretty obvious the Machine knew this was going to happen, so I don't think you can take any credit here. Now stop that and tell me how we're going to save the Machine.”

“Okay.” Root sat up a little straighter. “Head to the townhouse.”

Shaw already had been but she said, “Okay.” anyway.

“I hope Reese is okay,” Root said. He hadn't been answering his comlink all day.

“I'm sure he's fine.”

He was probably asleep or something, that jerk.

 

* * *

 

Reese was a little startled when the progress bar suddenly appeared on all the laptops at once. He examined one but there was no indication what files were transferring.

He heard the sound of someone running up the stairs and Fusco ran into the room, out of breath.

“We've got company, partner. And lots of it.”

Reese pulled his gun out and headed towards the door.

“Let's go say hello.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This both was and wasn't the parallel of Asylum obviously.
> 
> I hope the various styles of the Machine communicating and Samartian's style didn't all get confusing.
> 
> The first little bit wasn't strictly necessary but I wanted to give a small update on where the last chapter left off and give shoot a moment before all the crazy.
> 
> Unsure when the next update will be. Aiming for within a week.
> 
> Also, most importantly, the amazing and super talented [marina-does-things](http://marina-does-things.tumblr.com/) did some beautiful illustrations of my fic that you can see [here](http://marina-does-things.tumblr.com/post/157403268761/had-so-much-fun-illustrating-this-wonderful-work)! I am still basically screaming about how cool these are so be sure to go check them out.


	33. Season 4 Finale

 

“What I don’t understand is why half the force hasn't shown up here,” Fusco said, peering out at the street through the blinds of the townhouse. “We’ve got a bunch of government spooks and two of the biggest gangs in the city blasting holes in Murray Hill like it’s the O.K. Corral.”

“I have a feeling one or both of the AIs involved are responsible for the lack of police.” Reese tried to get a better look at what was going on outside. He itched to go out and get involved, but the Machine had told him to wait.

“Three Block Radius Clear.” The Machine used those voice audio clips like it did when he answered a payphone. He wondered if that was how it spoke to Root.

“Yeah, pretty sure that’s what happened,” he told Fusco.

Fusco glanced up at him. “That thing is talking to you now? I thought it only talked to laffy taffy.”

“It’s...not quite the same. I think.”

“Upstairs.” The voice in his comm was almost reassuring. It was nice to think someone knew what the fuck was going on.

“I’ll be right back.”

Floyd stopped him on his way to the stairs.

“You have a plan here? We agreed to help but there’s a lot more of those guys than us and we’re not here to die for you.”

Anthony was leaning against the wall nearby. He watched with his creepy smile and narrowed eyes, not intervening, but definitely paying attention.

“There’s a plan,” Reese protested. He wish he knew what the hell it was. “And right now it involves me going upstairs for a minute.”

Floyd let him pass, but she didn’t look thrilled. He heard her talking quietly to Anthony as he ascended the stairs.

“Are they going to be a problem?” he asked aloud.

The Machine didn’t answer and all he could think of was Root with her smug know-it-all grin.

The laptops in the server room all were displaying a giant ‘100%’ on the progress bar and a little ‘Transfer Complete!’ pop-up window that...appeared to have a middle finger emoji on it, too. He wondered if Claire had added that after getting here. Were all hackers this obnoxious or did the Machine just have shitty taste?

“Okay, what now?”

The main monitor lit up.

_Have the runners take the briefcases and split up. They will be pursued. It is imperative that they each abandon the briefcase at some point and escape unharmed._

Reese was even more confused now than ever.

“You _want_ Samaritan to capture the briefcases you spent all this time preparing?”

_Yes._

“And you’re not going to tell me why, are you?”

_Not now._

He thought about using the question he was still owed to demand a better answer, but decided it wasn’t worth it. There were way more important questions if they got through this.

“Okay. Fine. Then what?”

_You will hold out here until I tell you to leave._

“Uh, what?” Why were they leaving? What was the point of protecting a place they were going to abandon?

_After you leave you must be very sure to lose any pursuit before going back to any other safe place._

“What about the others?”

_Take Primary Asset Fusco with you._

He hadn’t been aware that Fusco was a primary asset. He wondered what Fusco would think of that.

“And what about Root and Shaw? Where are they anyway?”

He hadn’t heard from them all day and they weren’t answering their comms. After the stock exchange, radio silence bothered him a good bit more than it had used to. It was a lot easier to imagine someone dead after he’d seen them dying.

_They are safe. You must go now._

He sighed. Nothing about this situation made him happy. If they got out of here alive he was going to have a serious talk with Root about what the hell was going on with the Machine. Every time Shaw talked to it she seemed mildly aggravated but not overly concerned and the damn thing would barely give him the time of day.

_One more thing._

Reese grimaced. What could it possibly say to make his day worse now?

_When you join the people defending this building it would be strategically advisable to bring your grenade launcher._

A smile spread across Reese’s face, the first real one he’d managed since this whole mess started.

“Hell, yes.”

 

* * *

 

Root sat bolt upright in the passenger’s seat.

“She say something?” Shaw asked, glancing away from the road for a fraction of a second.

“Where are you?” Root sounded desperate. “Let us help you, please!”

Well, that answered Shaw’s question. She concentrated on the road to let Root sort out whatever was going down between her and the Machine. Shaw had some questions of her own for the AI, but they could wait until they’d fixed this mess. If they could fix this mess.

The silence stretched in the car until Shaw got impatient.

“What'd she say?”

Root didn't answer right away so Shaw looked over again. The only word she could think of for Root's expression was ‘stricken’.

“Root, what’d she say?” This wasn't the time for politely staying out of this.

“She said we're being tracked and not to go back to the subway or your apartment.” Root's tone was leaden.

“That it?”

“She said the townhouse is compromised. And that we need to focus on staying alive, not helping Her.” She could hear a hint of anger in Root’s voice now.

Shaw snorted. “Okay, so that's bullshit. Either she fills us in or we're gonna stick with the plan we already have.”

Just because Root didn't usually disobey the Machine didn't mean Shaw couldn't.

Root twisted in her seat and looked at her and then said, “I'm going to have to agree with Shaw on this one. Either tell us what's going on or we're going to follow our own directions rather than yours.”

Shaw raised an eyebrow at her. She didn't think she'd ever heard Root openly challenge the Machine like that. Apparently it worked, too, based off of Root's self-satisfied smile.

“Oh.” Root sounded startled and then went back to listening silently for what felt like an eternity. “But you're not, right? He does? Well, that'll make him happy, I suppose.”

Shaw risked a glare at her, not pleased at being left out.

“She's...in the electrical grid,” Root said in quiet awe. “That's where She moved herself to.”

“In the…. She can do that?” Obviously she could since she already had. “That's...pretty cool actually. Clever.”

Root’s whole face was shining again; her pride for the Machine made her glow.

“But how can Samaritan attack her there?” Shaw asked.

“It's targeting the power grid, causing blackouts across the country. It's trying to corner Her.”

“The townhouse.” The Machine’s backup plan must have been to download into the electronic monstrosity Root had built there. And that was probably why it was under attack.

“How did Samaritan find out about the townhouse?”

“She's been downloading Herself into it over the last few days, but now that it knows where She is and has its attention on Her it can track what She's doing.”

Shaw frowned. “Then how are we supposed to help her? We can't hold off Samaritan forces indefinitely.” Samaritan had more than enough personnel to roll over the whole team in an all-out fight.

Root basically wriggled in her seat, grinning. “Because She's not really going to be there. It'll be a copy of a large part of Her core code, enough that Samaritan shouldn't be able to tell.”

“Then where is she actually gonna be?”

“The subway. Hopefully. It's very risky. She copied down a lot of Her code there as well, but some of it She has to leave until the last second. There’s always a chance Samaritan catches Her then.”

Shaw nodded to herself, remembering how Root had been annoyed that the Machine had been doing something at the subway setup without telling her about it. “Townhouse is a distraction.” Misdirection. Had the Machine picked up that strategy from one of them?

“It has to look good. That's why She has them defending it.”

“Them who? Fusco and Reese can't hold off Samaritan alone.”

“A good part of the Brotherhood and Elias’s people are there as well. And She said She has another plan to draw away some of the forces.”

The Machine had evidently put a lot of thought into this.

“She knew what was going to happen when we went after that code,” Shaw said, slowly with a growing appreciation for the Machine’s tactics. “She knew we'd never get away. This whole thing was a setup to get us the code without anyone dying.”

Shaw wished she'd let them in on the plan ahead of time, though she could see Root having an absolute shit fit if the Machine had run that plan by her. Having the Machine put herself in the line of fire to save the rest of them was eerily similar to the stock exchange.

Had the Machine thought of that? Was that where she'd gotten the idea from? At least she seemed to have a better exit strategy than ‘try not to get shot too much’.

“She wants us to vanish and stay safe,” Root said, blissfully unaware of Shaw's thoughts. “But I don't think that's very realistic. If She were really in the townhouse we'd head straight there.”

Shaw nodded in agreement. “Not leaving the boys on their own.” Reese and Fusco were tough, but they weren't up to fighting an army without backup and she didn't trust either gang to really have their backs.

Root giggled, which, Shaw thought, was a bit odd in the current circumstances.

“What?”

“She also said Reese finally found a use for his grenade launcher.”

“And it isn't even his birthday. Probably.” There was one other issue though. “We're about to hit city traffic. Car is gonna be super slow unless the Machine can change all the lights and funnel traffic away from us.”

“Normally She might be able to, but not with Samaritan breathing down Her neck.” Root sounded thoughtful. “We need a way to get around traffic quickly.”

Shaw was pretty sure she knew where this was headed. “You thinkin’ what I am?”

Root practically vibrated with excitement. “We're going to steal another motorcycle!”

 

* * *

 

Reese bashed the man's head with the butt of his grenade launcher. He might be out of ammo for it but it was still damned useful. They could pry it from his cold, dead fingers. Well, hopefully not literally.

“Three o’clock.”

At the words in his comm he spun, shot through the wall of smoke he'd laid down, and heard a yelp as his bullet hit someone.

He wouldn't say they were winning, per se. He knew how many Samaritan agents were in or near the city and there was no way they could take them all down, but so far they'd handled everything thrown at them. There had been a few injuries on their side, but no deaths, and after sending the runners off with those briefcases a lot of the Samaritan forces had gone after them. A diversion tactic, he assumed.

Floyd had insisted on taking one briefcase herself, saying no one knew how to vanish in the city better than she did. He hoped she was right about that.

Fusco was back inside the townhouse, taking out any agents who got clever and tried to find a back way in. He'd been miffed that Reese had made him stay in there, but it significantly reduced the risk that Samaritan might ID him.

“Five o’clock.”

He spun and cracked a man in the skull with his gun. He'd forgotten how powerful God Mode was, how invincible it made him feel. It reminded him of how cocky and confident Root had been when she'd first become the analogue interface. But she wasn't that cocky anymore, he reminded himself. The Machine gave him an edge here, but it didn't make him bulletproof.

“Four o’clock.”

There were four men coming out of the smoke, guns leveled at him. The Machine could have told him every detail of their lives down to their social security numbers and favorite ice cream flavors and it wouldn't have done him any good.

There was a rumble of an engine approaching, but it didn't sound like a car. A motorcycle screeched in, turned sideways and slid towards them. The person sitting on the back of it raised a submachine gun at the four startled Samaritan agents and opened fire. The men fell into a groaning and screaming pile on the pavement. Reese stared at them for a moment and then looked up as the shooter hopped off the bike and pulled her helmet off.

“You're getting sloppy, Reese.” Shaw looked immensely pleased with herself.

The bike’s driver had also removed her helmet. “Hey, John. Need a hand?” Root got off the bike and joined Shaw, sliding her arm behind her. Shaw twitched slightly.

Reese blinked. Had Root just grabbed Shaw’s ass in the middle of what was essentially a war zone?

Dumb question. Of course she had.

“Would’ve been here sooner, but we had to pick up some goodies,” Root said, motioning with her head towards Shaw's gun.

“Incoming,” Shaw said just as the voice in his comm said, “Six o’clock.”

Shaw raised her gun and Root followed her lead, pulling two handguns out of her back waistband.

He turned and stepped back so he wasn't blocking anyone else’s shot and all three of them fired into the smoke, Samaritan agents dropping down with startling efficiency. When the Machine stopped calling out targets, he glanced at Shaw and saw a strange expression on her face.

“So that's what it's like having her in your ear during combat,” she said. She raised a hand to her ear piece, thoughtfully.

“Handy, huh?”

Shaw shrugged. “Wouldn't want it usually, but under the circumstances I'm not complaining.”

The idea of all three of them able to hear the Machine in combat was a bit frightening to Reese, but from the way Root’s eyes were practically glowing she seemed pretty on board with it.

“There's more on the way,” she said. “A lot more. Fusco get out here, now. She says we're going to have to leave soon.”

It was a bit of a relief to have Root here acting as the intermediary again rather than having the Machine give him orders directly.

“Where'd you come from?” Fusco asked over the comlink.

“Not now, Lionel. Move first, questions later.”

“I'll tell the troops to clear out,” Reese said. “Where are we headed?”

Root and Shaw exchanged a look and both shrugged.

“Run until you're sure no one's following. Then meet up at our other spot,” Shaw said.

She must have been worried Samaritan could hear if she didn't want to mention the subway out loud. If it could actually hear them now, their covers were all probably shot, but he wasn't going to argue with being overcautious.

“We splitting up then?”

There was another exchange of looks and he wondered when they'd gotten so good at talking silently. He was almost envious.

“You take Fusco and we'll stick together,” Shaw decided. “Staying safe is the top priority.”

“What about the Machine?”

“We can't do anything more here,” Root said, firmly.

And Reese believed that. If Root was abandoning this place then the Machine wasn't in danger. At least not here.

“I'll see you two later then.” He made sure his voice implied that this was not optional.

“You'll see us,” Shaw promised. She tugged Root away and they headed back towards the motorcycle.

Reese watched them leave and then went to dismiss the mobsters in his ragtag army.

 

* * *

 

_Locating assets…._

_Possible asset located….._

_Determining asset identity…._

_Identity match found in asset dictionary containing Shaw, Primary Asset Shaw, Sameen Shaw, Sweetie, Sameen Gray, Indigo Five Alpha…._

_Identity established as Shaw…._

_Asset status….minor injury...._

_Second possible asset located…._

_Determining asset identity…._

_Identity match found in asset dictionary containing Root, Analogue Interface, Samantha Groves, Coco Puffs…._

_RuntimeWarning: Use of Samantha Groves will cause 30 second system delay, avoid at all costs…_

_Identity established as Root..._

_Asset status...minor injury…._

_Assets location...Chelsea, Manhattan…._

_Observing…._

 

* * *

 

Root parked the motorcycle in an alley and pulled her helmet off. Shaw jumped off the back and scanned the alley entrance for potential pursuit, gun at the ready.

“I’m pretty sure we lost them,” Root said, getting off the bike and running a hand through her hair.

“She tell you that?”

“No.” The Machine had gone quiet somewhere on the way there. Ominously quiet. The Samaritan agents must have gotten into the townhouse. Even if the Machine wasn't really there the idea of Samaritan agents destroying the setup in the townhouse bothered her. Having them trampling through a place where she'd spent so much time with Shaw made her skin crawl.

Shaw glanced at her and nodded, probably concluding they were on their own for a bit. “Okay, we need somewhere to hole up for a few hours then. Play it safe and make sure we really weren’t followed.”

“When She gave me this location earlier She said there was a place we could hide off of this alley.” It had been the last thing She’d told her and She hadn’t been specific about what the place was.

“Door over there.” Shaw pointed at what was probably a fire exit on one of the alley walls. “Nothing much else here so that must be it.”

It took Shaw a few seconds to pop the lock on the door and examine the room on the other side.

“Looks like the Machine was thinking ahead again,” she said. She motioned Root to follow her in.

The building they’d broken into appeared to be a medical clinic of some sort. It was pretty late so it was empty, shut down for the night.

“Why would we need a medical clinic?” Root asked as she followed Shaw into what turned out to be a supply room.

“Leg got grazed while we were leaving the townhouse.”

A black SUV had tried to cut them off and had fired a couple shots after them, but Root hadn’t thought any of the bullets had been anywhere close to them. A glance at Shaw’s leg showed a rip in her black jeans below the knee, but it was too dark to see much more. She hadn’t even been limping.

“All our medical supplies are at my place and the subway,” Shaw continued as she pulled supplies out of a cabinet. “Probably be fine without them, but I’m not turning this down.”

She sat down on the floor up against the wall, and used a scalpel to slice the leg of her jeans open to about her knee, rolling the fabric out of the way. It wasn’t a bad graze, Root thought. It was a bit hard to tell since it had bled a lot, but it didn’t look particularly deep.

She watched Shaw cleaning the blood away with a little bottle of clean water and some sterile gauze. For someone who’d been told she’d never be a doctor, Shaw spent a lot of time patching people up. Root wondered how many lives she’d saved one way or another. How many times had Shaw taken care of her gunshot wounds now?

She dropped down to sit next to Shaw and grabbed a couple fresh squares of gauze out of the box Shaw had gotten.

“Let me help.”

Shaw brushed her away. “Really don’t need help with this.”

“I know that.” She could feel Shaw’s eyes on her but she didn’t look up.

“Knock yourself out,” Shaw said. She leaned back against the wall and let Root take over.

They both stayed quiet while Root worked, until she started looking through the pile of supplies for bandages.

“Butterfly bandages should be fine,” Shaw said.

Root finally raised her head enough to see Shaw’s face. It had never been easy to read her expressions, slight as they were, but her eyes were intense, focused, and she wasn’t looking away. Root leaned forward, closing the small distance between them, watching Shaw’s eyes for any sign that she was uncomfortable. But Shaw just kept watching her and made no move to stop her when she pressed their lips together, soft and brief.

She pulled back almost immediately, not wanting to overstay her welcome, but Shaw’s hand came up and wrapped around the back of her neck, trapping her there and pulling her back into a much deeper kiss. It felt strange, kissing like this without any intention of it leading to anything more, strange but not unwelcome.

Shaw released her grip on her after a minute or two and Root pulled back enough to rest her forehead against hers, their breaths soft on each other’s faces.

It was such a vast relief to be here, safe, with Shaw. When Greer had threatened to shoot her….

“Bandaids?” Shaw prompted softly.

Root chuckled and sat back. “Uh...yeah. Bandaids. Of course.”

Neither of them said anything else while she finished dressing the wound and they both found a sink to wash their hands off in.

“Wonder how the boys are doing,” Shaw said as she poked through the fridge they’d found in what appeared to be a staff break room.

“No way of finding out, now.” She’d been used to the Machine disappearing for stretches of time before, but this felt different. “The best thing we can do is get back to the subway as soon as we’re sure it’s safe.”

“How can we be sure of that?”

“Well, your original cover identity is back in place with the Machine offline like this. I probably don’t have one at all, though. You should be okay to go back if no one shows up looking for us here in the next hour, but I may have to use the shadow map to get back.”

Shaw shut the fridge door with a bang, glaring at it as if it had failed her.

“I’ll steal a car and pull it around. You can throw a coat over your head or something and stay quiet. If it can’t see or hear you then you’re okay, right?”

“Probably, but…”

“We’re not splitting up again today. We can both use the shadow map to get back if it comes to that but I'm fucking tired and I'd rather drive.”

Root nodded and rubbed at her still-sore right arm as she remembered everything that had happened in just one day. It felt like it’d been a week ago that they’d climbed into a trunk together.

“And put some ice on that.” Shaw pulled the freezer door open and started rummaging around, presumably looking for the ice.

Root smiled as she watched her. “Whatever you say, sweetie.”

 

* * *

 

_Locating assets…._

_Possible asset located….._

_Determining asset identity…._

_Identity match found in asset dictionary containing Reese, Primary Asset Reese, John Reese, John Riley, Big Lug, Wonderboy….._

_Identity established as Primary Asset Reese…._

_Asset status….fatigued...._

_Second possible asset located…._

_Determining asset identity…._

_Identity match found in asset dictionary containing Fusco, Lionel Fusco, Primary Asset Fusco, Fuscinator…._

_Identity established as Primary Asset Fusco…._

_Asset status...cranky…._

_Assets location...Midtown, Manhattan…._

_Observing…._

 

* * *

 

“You couldn’t have found somewhere nicer for us to hide?”

“It could be worse,” Reese said wearily. “At least there aren’t any rats down here. That we’ve found yet, anyway.”

Fusco squinted at him and then looked around the basement suspiciously. Once they’d been fairly sure they’d lost their Samaritan tail, they’d broken the lock on a basement door under a drug store and resigned themselves to waiting in the dark, dank room.

“Ready to tell me exactly what was going on back there?” Fusco asked as he poked at a damp cardboard box.

“Honestly? I only sort of understand myself.” Reese fiddled with his gun. He really wanted to try and raise Shaw on the comms, but he’d gotten the impression that wouldn’t necessarily be safe right now.

“So spill.” Fusco pulled his phone out and flicked through something on it. “Think it’s safe to call Lee?”

“Probably best not to do anything until we’re really sure we're in the clear.” There was no reason to think Samaritan knew that Fusco worked with them, but he wasn’t going to risk a kid on the chance he was wrong.

“Yeah.” Fusco looked glum.

“Samaritan was trying to destroy the Machine,” Reese said, hoping that changing back to the previous topic would take Fusco’s mind off his son.

“Yeah, no shit. I didn’t think anyone knew where it was though? Has it been in the townhouse the whole time?”

“I...don’t think so, but I’m not sure. I think whatever happened at the townhouse was a distraction from something else, but I don’t know what the bigger picture is.”

He hoped Root and Shaw knew and they all weren’t running around blind now.

“Is it worth it, that machine?” Fusco poked at his phone some more. “It helps us save lives, but a lot of people have still died.”

Carter’s name hung unspoken in the air, but Reese wasn’t sure that was a death they could blame the Machine for despite how he’d felt right after. There were too many complications involved there. And then there was Jessica’s picture in Finch’s safe. If the Machine had been what she now was could they have saved Jessica?

“Saving even one life makes it worth it.” Other people had their Jessicas and Carters.

“You ever hear anything more from Glasses?”

It was a bit of an odd topic jump, but if there was anyone who was critical of whether or not the Machine was ‘worth it’ it was Finch, so maybe it made a bit of sense.

“No. I had Root ask the Machine about him, but there was no new information so we couldn’t be sure that going to see him would be safe.”

He wasn’t sure he was ready to talk to Finch yet. He missed his friend, but he felt like he needed to figure some things out in his own head before the inevitable conversation that would take place.

“Hopefully we’re all still alive at the end of this thing so someone can tell him it’s safe to come out.” The shootout must have left Fusco in a bad mood.

“Yeah, we’ve had a lot of close calls recently, haven’t we?” He thought about his night freezing in the car with the ghost of Carter, and his conversation with Root in the hospital. “I ever tell you about Jessica?”

It had never occurred to him that Fusco was someone he could talk to about important things in his life. Fusco had been a dirty cop back when they'd first met, someone to intimidate and coerce, not someone to confide in. He'd thought of Shaw, not Fusco, as his real partner out in the field, but that hadn't really been the case for quite awhile. She was in charge now, and, of course, there was Root.

And then there was Fusco who'd covered his ass on the job since day one and had always helped out even when Reese kept him in the dark.

“You never tell me anything,” Fusco grumbled, but he must have caught that Reese was being serious because he quickly followed with: “Who’s Jessica?”

Reese hesitated, not quite able to make himself take the last step and let the words out. Fusco groaned.

“Listen, partner, we're gonna be stuck down here awhile, so either start talking or I'm going to give you the play by play of the precinct’s last game.”

The horrifying prospect of listening to Fusco’s overly-enthusiastic description of the precinct’s bowling team turned out to be a great motivator.

Reese settled himself on the edge of a splintery table and took a breath. “Back when I was in the army…”

 

* * *

 

_Active primary assets and interface accounted for…._

_Initializing reboot and full system diagnostic scans…._

_System shutting down for reboot in 5…_

_4…._

_3…._

_2…._

_1…._

…… _._

 

* * *

 

It was suspiciously quiet in the subway station when Reese walked in. If Bear hadn’t come running over to greet him, tail wagging furiously, he might have drawn his gun.

“Anyone else here, boy?” he asked the dog as he patted him on the head.

Bear ran back towards the subway car and Reese followed along a bit cautiously. He knew Bear would never let a stranger in without a fight, but after the day he’d had he was still a bit on edge. He relaxed when he saw Root’s hair through the window.

“Root. Where’s…”

He stopped when he cleared the door. Root was sitting on the row of subway seats with her laptop on her knees. Next to her on the seats Shaw was stretched out on her side, fast asleep with her head pillowed on one arm. The top of her head just barely touched Root's leg.

The whole scene was...cute (a word he could never admit to associating with it for fear of a violent death at Shaw's hands), especially since Shaw appeared to be wearing a pair of boxers with binary code on them that he highly doubted were hers, and a shirt with a picture of pancakes that said ‘Stack Overflow’ that _definitely_ wasn't hers.

Root raised a finger to her lips when she saw him and tiptoed out of the subway car with her laptop.

“Never thought I'd see Shaw asleep on the job,” he said when they were out of earshot.

“We were both pretty tired, but I convinced her to take the first sleep shift so I could look at our hard-earned prize.” Root set her laptop down on a table and dropped into a chair.

“Prize?” He had almost forgotten how little he understood about what had happened in all the confusion of escaping.

Root patted the laptop. “We stole more of Samaritan’s code today. Probably even enough.”

“You can finish...whatever it is you've been working on? We can finally go after Samaritan?” It almost made the whole day worth it.

“It'll take me a little time still to finish up, but I think so.” Root sounded more optimistic than he'd heard her be in ages.

“What about…?” He jerked his head back at the Machine's setup in the subway car.

Root's face fell. “I'm not completely sure yet. She...She's in the hardware here now, I’m pretty sure, but it's been radio silence. _Something_ is happening with it though. The server blades are all running hot, but She hasn't said anything to me yet.”

Reese was surprised at the stab of worry he felt. It wasn't just worry about not getting the numbers anymore, either.

“How did Samaritan find her?”

“Her?” Root raised her eyebrows and smiled.

He pulled a Shaw and rolled his eyes at her.

“It didn't find Her exactly,” Root said. “She had us break into a Samaritan facility to get the code we needed, but She knew there was no way we'd ever get out safely so She had a backup plan in place.”

“The Machine told Samaritan that she was in the townhouse? But she wasn't, right?” He was just going to give up on the pronoun thing and surrender to the inevitable. The Machine had taken care of all of them today, continuing to use ‘it’ felt petty.

“No, She was in the power grid of the entire country, but Samaritan chased Her out so She ran to the townhouse. Or that's what She wanted it to think She did.”

“But she really came here?” That was way more devious than he'd pegged the Machine being capable of. It sounded more like something one of them would pull.

“Hopefully.” Root chewed on her lip as she peered back at the subway car.

“And what about the briefcases?”

“She put some important code on them,” Root explained. “Not enough to be dangerous, but Samaritan couldn't take that risk.”

“To what end though?”

Root looked at him like he was daft. “To pull some of the Samaritan forces off of you. To protect you and Fusco.”

Which was basically what he'd surmised at the time, though he imagined Root would pat him on the knee in a patronizing manner if he brought that up.

“But didn't it endanger the people carrying the cases?”

Root shrugged. “She thought that the risk was fairly negligible as long as they followed instructions and abandoned the cases.”

“And did they?” He didn't like to think that Elias and Floyd’s people might have gotten killed in a ploy to protect him.

“When She wakes up, She'll tell us.”

“No way of knowing when that will be?”

Root sighed. “No. I'm hoping She's just running some diagnostics on Herself. We can only wait now.” She pressed her lips together. “And I get to wait down here since I don't have a cover identity anymore.”

“Does Shaw…?”

“Hers should be fine. And yours.”

That was something anyway.

“You should go home, John. Get some sleep. You have to go back to work like normal tomorrow.”

He _was_ pretty damn tired. “You sure you don't need me here?” After fighting and running all day going home felt anticlimactic.

“I think the excitement is over for the day.”

He nodded, taking her at her word. He felt like he had a million more questions, not the least of which was ‘what next?’, but the answers were sure to be complicated and not necessarily good. He'd rather get a good night's sleep before dealing with that.

Root went back to the subway car as he got ready to head out again. He was patting Bear goodnight when he heard Shaw's voice mumble something he couldn't make out from inside the subway car.

“Hey, sweetie, it's okay. Go back to sleep.” Root's voice was gentler than he'd ever heard it and he hurried out as quickly as he could, feeling like an intruder.

He wondered if it would be safe to call in sick tomorrow. He wanted to sleep for a week.

 

* * *

 

Root woke up when she felt someone prying her laptop out of her hands. She tightened her grip instinctively.

“Either wake up or let go.” The amusement in Shaw's voice was what finally dragged Root back to the surface of consciousness.

“The Machine!” She stood up from the subway seat and almost knocked over Shaw.

She clutched her laptop to herself as she hurried over to the monitors. The command prompt was still blank, the cursor blinking endlessly.

“Hasn't been a peep.” Shaw’s expression was almost apologetic, a strange look on her.

“What time is it?”

“There's a clock on the screen.” Shaw had an eyebrow raised, as if she thought Root had gone off the deep end.

“Right, of course.” She didn't want to admit that she'd expected the Machine to answer like She usually would have.

“It's after three am.” She’d slept for even longer than she'd thought. “You should have gone home hours ago.”

Shaw scowled at her.

“You’re really an idiot, you know?”

Root’s eyes widened. There was no malice in Shaw's tone, only exasperation.

“An idiot? I'll have you know that…”

“Yeah, whatever.” Shaw smirked a little as she turned her back and walked out of the subway car. “I'll be taking up the whole disaster you call a bed while you soliloquize out here.”

Shaw was staying in the subway?

Of course she was. Root shook her head at herself. She _was_ an idiot.

She looked over the Machine’s new home and watched the unresponsive monitor for a few seconds before she left the subway car. There was nothing she could do now except wait.

Shaw was attempting to salvage the mess of sheets and blankets on the bed when Root joined her.

“I'll go back to the apartment and get us some clothes and stuff tomorrow morning since you're grounded.” Shaw fished one of her own tank tops out of the bed and gave Root a look that said she was judging her.

“I could be stuck here awhile.”

“We'll figure that out when we have to.” Shaw didn't sound worried.

The blankets situation must have finally met with her approval because she motioned at Root to get in. The bed was more of a cot, really, definitely not meant for two people, so Root curled up on her side.

Shaw flopped down against her on her back and Root fit herself around her, one hand resting on Shaw's stomach and her face buried in Shaw's neck. Her arm still hurt from earlier, but she was too tired to really care. She let her fingers scratch softly at Shaw's stomach through her shirt.

“About today,” she began cautiously.

Shaw groaned. “Why do you always start these conversations when I'm about to fall asleep?”

Root chuckled. “Because you're more likely to answer just to shut me up.”

“That's.... Okay, fair. What about today then?”

“When Samaritan was bargaining with the Machine…” She trailed off, unsure how to word what she wanted to say.

“I was waiting for an opportunity to do something,” Shaw said, defensively. “I wasn't…. I mean, I wouldn't have….”

Root laughed involuntarily and Shaw stiffened against her.

“Sweetie,” Root said, still amused, “I know that. I was going to apologize for losing control to such a spectacular degree.”

“Oh. Eh. Different methods and all. Lambert won't be walking anywhere soon. Again.” Shaw relaxed again.

“I guess we're both idiots.”

“Speak for yourself,” Shaw said, indignant even though she sounded half asleep. “Or better yet, don't speak at all and go to sleep.”

Later, Bear trotted in and laboriously climbed on top of both of them and settled himself awkwardly. Shaw grumbled at him in a half-hearted way when he stepped on her.

Root fell asleep to the sound of Shaw's even breaths and Bear's doggy snores, momentarily content despite everything still looming over them.

 

* * *

 

_Self-diagnostic complete…._

_System reinitializing…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you could call that the season 4 finale, even though it's not that similar. Take a shot every time I end a chapter with Shoot falling asleep.
> 
> My first attempt to write the Machine bits in this I tried to put in actual code, but that quickly became impractical. But because I'm easily distracted I did end up writing a tiny-but-fully-functional script that reported the status of the machine's assets. If the user attempted to pass 'Samantha Groves' to the script as an input, it did, in fact, cause the program to hang for a solid 30 seconds. Passive-aggressive coding at its best.
> 
> I need to actually finish the season 5 rewatch I've been putting off and I'll be out of town this weekend, so not going to guess when the next chapter will be done.


	34. Intermission 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this intermission #2, happening between season 4 and 5. Not a huge amount of plot, but some catching up with people and mostly something for me to write while I outlined the rest of the fic.

Root hummed along to the music echoing through the subway car, applying her black nail polish one careful stroke at a time. She hadn't worn it much recently since it often didn't fit in with whatever identity she had to assume, and she'd missed it. Once upon a partiality-repressed-memory-of-a-time she'd been teased for things like this, so when she'd moved onto her _real_ life as Root she'd kept one of those little things that had made her a target while she made others _her_ target. She didn't do that sort of thing anymore, of course, but the nail polish was a small unifying factor throughout her otherwise very amorphous life.

She heard footsteps on the stairs as she finished her last nail. Her hand rested lightly on the gun sitting on the desk next to her as she waited for her visitor to appear. The footfalls were all wrong for Shaw. Also, it sounded like heels and Shaw had been wearing boots when she’d left.

The music in the car cut off abruptly.

“Root?”

She let her hand relax and ease away from the gun.

“In here.”

Zoe Morgan strode into the subway car like she owned the place and took in the whole scene. Her eyes flicked from Root (who was still wearing some dubiously-clean clothes she'd found in one of the piles in her room since Shaw hadn't yet brought her fresh ones from the apartment), to the blank monitors on and above the desk, to the humming and glowing hardware at the end of the car.

“Any news?” she asked. She slipped out of the coat she was wearing (it was disturbingly hot in the subway due to all the machines running) and folded it neatly over one arm. Root watched the movement, stashing it away for later use. Zoe had such easy poise and Root often studied her when she had the chance, always eager for ways to improve her own personas.

“Where's Shaw?” Maybe it was rude not to answer Zoe’s question first, but Root had priorities.

“Oh, she's getting a sandwich, I think. She said to come down ahead of her.”

Root nodded and blew gently on her fingernails. She wondered if she'd ever reach a point where she didn't worry about Shaw when she didn't have the Machine to keep an eye on her.

Zoe settled herself on the subway seats and gracefully crossed one leg over the other.

“So, how's the Machine?”

Root took an extra minute to fuss over her drying nails before she answered the question.

“I think She's okay. It's too soon to say for sure.” The Machine had played music for her, but only over the speakers; She hadn't conveyed any real message yet, and Root wasn't comfortable telling anyone the details of how she communicated with Her. Anyone except Shaw.

Zoe narrowed her eyes a little a if sensing the omission and then nodded. “How's your arm? Shaw said it got hurt yesterday?”

Root rolled her shoulder back reflexively at the question.

“Sore, but functional.”

She wondered how much Shaw had told Zoe about what had happened. Zoe was more or less kept in the loop about all their exploits, but yesterday...Samaritan capturing them, Greer threatening to shoot Shaw, the Machine sacrificing Herself for them...that all felt strangely personal. And out of herself, Shaw, and Reese she was probably the least close to Zoe. Discussing Zoe’s work and the jobs she had for Root on occasion was easy, but she didn't really know how to approach her beyond that.

“Shaw didn't go into a lot of detail,” Zoe said. “But I gathered that Samaritan came after the Machine and she's hiding out in here now.” Zoe gestured at the setup.

“More or less. John may have accidentally razed part of Murray Hill last night.” Talking about John was safer.

Zoe’s eyebrows shot up.

“The news said there was a fire there last night. That was John?”

“He had some help, but yes.”

Zoe nodded to herself, absorbing everything and filing it away for later.

“Well,” she said after a moment, “burning down entire neighborhoods isn't my specialty, but let me know if there's anything I can do to help.”

Keep an eye on Shaw, Root wanted to say, but she didn't think Shaw would like it if she asked Zoe that. And she didn’t think Zoe, or anyone else for that matter, could actually keep Shaw safe.

“At the moment we can't do much of anything,” Root said. “No numbers until She starts talking again, and I'm stuck in here for the time being.”

“I take it the townhouse you bought with my help was at the center of the, ah, fire?”

Root nodded. There hadn't been an actual fire that she was aware of, but it sounded like a plausible Samaritan cover story.

The sound of Shaw coming down the stairs drew Root to her feet and out onto the subway platform without her even consciously deciding to move. Shaw was holding a brown take-out bag and had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She met Root in the middle of the platform.

It felt a little like it had in the days directly after the stock exchange, where a palpable sense of relief flooded through Root whenever she saw Shaw. She wanted to pull Shaw to her as close as she could, run her hands over every inch of her to reassure herself that she was real. She hadn't even realized how worried she'd been until she'd seen her.

With the Machine still not fully functional, the day in the subway had dragged on for what felt like an eternity. It’d been a long time since she'd felt that alone and she'd been at the edge of her tolerance right before the Machine had started playing music over the speakers.

She'd felt such a huge surge of relief at the music that she'd sunk down onto the floor by the desk and listened quietly with her eyes shut for what felt like ages. She wished that She would say something, though. Anything.

At least with Shaw back in her sight one of the twin knots of worry inside her could loosen a little.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said, falling into step next to Shaw and letting their arms bump a little.

“How's the Machine?” Shaw asked as she headed to the table.

Zoe had come out of the subway car and moved to join them.

“Still mostly quiet.”

Shaw nodded and dropped the sandwich bag on the table and the duffel bag on the floor.

“Did you bring enough to share with the rest of the class?” Root asked, motioning at the brown paper bag.

Shaw sat down on a bench and dumped the bag contents on the table.

“Only because you're stuck here,” she said holding out a sandwich wrapped in white paper.

Root smiled in thanks and sat down next to her. She brushed her fingers over Shaw's leg for the briefest of moments before focusing on her food. Zoe was watching them like a hawk, a small, knowing smile on her lips.

“The code we stole working out?” Shaw asked after she'd practically inhaled half of her sandwich.

Root was picking at her own, pulling the crust off in little pieces and ripping the edge off the lettuce so it didn't hang over the side.

“Definitely. I'm pretty confident we've got everything we need to finish. There's...a lot to sort through, but it'll be easier once She's able to help again.” She'd been working on it all day. The nail polish break had only been to let her think through some optimization.

“Well, at least it was worth it then.” Shaw was watching her dismember her sandwich with a slight frown.

Root wasn't sure she could agree yet. Not until she was positive the Machine was going to be okay. Nothing was worth Her dying.

“What's your next move?” Zoe asked, directing the question to both of them.

Root continued picking at her sandwich, hoping Shaw would answer. She felt slightly adrift without the Machine to tell her what came next.

“Keep working our cover jobs until the Machine wakes up or Root fixes her.” Shaw shrugged. “Don't have much else of a plan.”

Root wasn't sure she could fix the Machine if Samaritan had done something to Her, but Shaw's easy confidence in her skills left a warm glow in her chest.

“And what about you?” Zoe asked, the question directed solely at Root this time. “You can't stay down here forever.”

“Not forever, but I've got plenty to do at the moment and this is the best place for me to be when the Machine comes back online.” She wasn't leaving until that happened.

“With the townhouse being toast and all, this is the only secure location for talking to her, right?” Shaw made a vague attempt to wipe her fingers off on a paper napkin.

“Unfortunately,” Root agreed. “Did Samaritan actually burn it down?”

“I took a look at it with a pair of binoculars from a ways away. Didn't look burned down to me. Had a nice selection of bullet holes though. Maybe that'll bring the price down.”

“The news said it was a fire,” Zoe said. “I'd imagine they're trying to keep people out of the area while they--” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall in a slight shrug. “--Well, whatever it is they need to do.”

“They'll salvage as much of the hardware as they can,” Root said. She tried not to think about Samaritan forces picking through the Machine’s hardware. “Try to get as much data off the drives as they can find. She probably wiped out everything but that's never foolproof.”

At least not against Samaritan itself.

“Anything on there that should worry us?” Shaw asked.

Root gave up dismembering her sandwich and turned to look back at the subway car and the darkened monitors.

“No way of knowing yet.” Since the Machine had never actually had Her core code in the townhouse there was probably nothing to be concerned about, but she wanted to be sure.

“Are you actually going to eat that?” Shaw had focused back in on her abandoned sandwich.

“I'm not that hungry.” She was too worried to have much of an appetite.

Shaw pulled the remains of the sandwich over to herself and started in on them. “Fine, but when you're starving later I'm not getting you more.”

Root couldn't help but smile at the sight of Shaw eating her sandwich. She glanced up at Zoe, but she seemed to be overly interested in something on her phone.

“You didn't bring anything for Zoe?” she asked Shaw, curious.

Shaw shrugged, mouth too full to answer.

“I have a dinner party in a few hours,” Zoe explained, looking up from her phone. “I'm only here until Shaw drives me home.”

Which meant that they'd stopped here just so Shaw could bring her food and whatever was in the duffel bag. She felt a stab of guilt for not eating more.

“Yeah, we should probably go.” Shaw got up from the table and dusted her hands off. She paused when her foot bumped the duffel bag in the ground.

“There's clothes and stuff in here,” she said kicking it towards Root. “For both of us. So don't steal mine.”

Root was about to retort but she saw some sort of realization flash through Shaw, her eyes flicking over to Zoe and back. Shaw scowled and stalked off towards the subway car, muttering under her breath.

Zoe chuckled softly. “She doesn't even bother trying to hide the fact you two are sleeping together, but the idea I might know that you steal her clothes sends her off.”

“It's different,” Root said, feeling strangely defensive. Sex had always been easy for Shaw, it was the other stuff that was complicated for both of them. The little things.

The fact they were fucking was something Shaw had never particularly tried to hide, but the fact she was staying at the subway with her when she had no reason to…. It meant something else, and it was that something else that had probably bothered Shaw.

“I know that.” Zoe smiled a little apologetically. “Did you know she answered the door in your shirt at the hotel that time?”

Root couldn't help the smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Which shirt was that?”

“That's how I roll or something similar.”

Root’s smile turned into a grin. She would have paid good money to see that. She quickly fought down her amusement.

“I'm going to…” She wasn't sure how to finish that so she just turned her back on Zoe and hurried towards the subway car.

Shaw was jabbing at the keyboard with one finger when she reached her.

“Thanks for bringing everything,” Root said as she moved to stand next to her.

“Didn't want you to starve down here. Not that you ate anything.”

“Sorry to make you come all this way for nothing.”

Shaw didn't say anything in response so Root bumped her lightly her with her elbow like how Shaw would sometimes nudge her when she got lost in her own head.

“I don't mind,” Shaw said, finally. She was standing a bit stiffly and Root knew that she wasn't talking about the failed food delivery. “I don't. But I've always minded before so sometimes I have to remember that I don't now.”

“I know,” Root said. Because she did. And because even if Shaw wanted to keep what they had secret and away from the others it wouldn't have made a tiny bit of difference to her.

Shaw nodded, something like relief on her face. “I'm gonna drive Zoe home and then I'll be back. You need anything else? Something you'll _actually_ eat?”

Root bit her lip to keep from teasing Shaw about how she'd threatened to let her starve.

“Maybe. It's hard to focus on anything when…” She motioned towards the blinking servers.

Shaw looked thoroughly unimpressed. “It'll be even harder to focus if you pass out.” She turned to leave but paused in the doorway. “Let me know if…” She jerked her head towards the monitors.

“She played music for me earlier,” Root said. Zoe couldn’t hear them there. “Just over the speakers, but I think...it’s got to be a good sign.”

“It mean anything? The music?”

It had, but not the way Shaw meant.

“Not exactly. And nothing that would tell me anything about what state She’s in.”

“Step in the right direction, at the least.” Shaw gave her a brief goodbye head nod and continued out the door.

Root watched her walk away and returned Zoe's wave as they left the subway but didn't make any move to go say goodbye. The second they were gone she turned back to look at the humming machines at the end of the car.

With Shaw out and the Machine still in some sort of limbo it was far too quiet. The way she saw it she had one ear for each of them and the silence in both was overwhelming.

“Please come back,” she said softly.

The music from earlier started playing again over the speakers. She sank down into the desk chair, folded her arms on the desk, and rested her head on them.

“Thank you, really. But I miss talking to you. I miss hearing you.” She shut her eyes, suddenly overwhelmingly tired. “You never should have risked yourself like that. I could have gone on my own and gotten the code, maybe. Then both of you would have been safe.”

A minor note that didn't belong in the music slipped in and Root half-smiled at the obvious rebuff. It meant She was listening.

 

* * *

 

Martine had spent a lot of her career forcing herself to smile at people she'd rather have killed. As a woman, even one who killed people for a living, it was expected of her. So she'd learned to smile at even the grossest and most patronizing of employers, and killed the ones she could get away with killing when the time came. As for the rest, well, she kept a list.

But the smile that spread across her face when Jeremy Lambert hobbled into the room leaning heavily on a crutch was nothing but genuine. She still owed that woman, Groves, or Root, or whatever the fuck her name was, for breaking her nose, but this made up for it a little. Maybe she'd kill her quickly.

“Ah, Lambert, so nice of you to join us,” Greer said, and Martine basked in the barely-hidden contempt in his voice. Greer had little use for broken tools, as they'd both found out after that disaster at the stock exchange.

“Sorry, sir,” Lambert said, wobbling to a halt. “Still recovering. Be right as rain in no time. What news is there?”

Martine wondered if Greer would laugh if she kicked Lambert’s crutch out from under him.

“We've collected every single piece of the patchwork supercomputer they built in their little hideout and Samaritan has been going over it all, but it doesn't think it will find anything useful.” Greer sniffed in irritation. “We didn't expect so much resistance from them with the two women otherwise occupied.”

Martine was still disappointed she'd missed out on the fun. She'd been looking forward to another match with Sameen Shaw after she'd seen the other woman walk off multiple potentially-lethal gunshot wounds. She hadn't gotten her chance out in the woods either since the Machine's little pet had jumped her. Her face was still bruised from that and her nose ached. Honestly from the way that woman had acted you'd have thought she'd been the one Martine had shot.

Though she had a theory about that….

“And there's been no sign of them since?” Lambert asked.

“If there had do you think we'd be having this conversation?” Greer asked impatiently.

As much as Martine enjoyed seeing Lambert getting snapped at, she was more interested in the fact that something had Greer unsettled. His smug, supercilious demeanor was off today.

Lambert looked properly chastised but still didn't have the good sense to keep his mouth shut. “Did we succeed in destroying the Machine?”

“You mean did _Samaritan_ succeed,” Martine corrected. “You were too busy screaming on the ground, I hear.”

“How's your nose?” Lambert shot back. “Shame about your face, but that's not too much of a loss.”

“I insult your competence and the best you can do is attempt to insult my appearance? Pathetic.”

“That's enough now, children.” Greer almost looked amused. “We're not sure what the status of the Machine is yet. Samaritan easily destroyed every trace of it that it found, but AIs are hard to kill.”

Martine’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Lately it felt like Samaritan hadn't been quite as all-powerful as she'd originally thought. The Machine’s tiny band of troublemakers had walked away from encounters with them three times now without losing a single person; Shaw had been the only one seriously injured and that didn't seem to have slowed her down at all.

If the Machine was still active then Samaritan would have gained nothing from this last encounter. In fact it seemed likely that Samaritan might have been played if that was the case. After all, Shaw and Root had come here for a reason and walked out relatively unharmed.

She kept all that to herself for the time being. Even if Samaritan wasn't quite all it was cracked up to be, it was still the best ally. For now.

“What are our orders, sir?” she asked Greer. What Samaritan did next would be...interesting to observe.

“You're both to stay here for the time being, until we're sure the Machine is gone. After that you'll be heading to Washington to help with some house cleaning. Well, Martine will, anyway.” He cast a disdainful look at Lambert’s crutch.

Martine wondered why either herself or Lambert were still here at all. By her understanding of Samaritan, it should have discarded them after they were injured at the stock exchange. They'd failed there and been incapacitated, useless. Had Greer chosen to keep them around despite his total disgust at their failure? Maybe Samaritan didn't care who did its work as long as it got done and left the staffing to Greer. Either way, they were probably both running out of goodwill.

“I'll be back in the game in no time, sir,” Lambert insisted.

It sounded like he was going to go on for a bit so Martine gave Greer a smile (one of the fake ones) and left the room. She needed time to think things over. She very much liked the idea of getting another crack at both Root and Shaw, but in the larger scheme of things she could pass on that if it meant getting herself out safely. Especially if it looked like team Samaritan was going to become an unhealthy career option.

She needed to start putting some contingencies in place. Discreetly, of course. Samaritan was always watching.

 

* * *

 

“Have you heard from either of them yet?” Fusco asked as he sat down at his desk.

“Not since I saw them last night.” Reese wasn't too worried. He didn't think there was a chance in hell that Root would venture outside the subway until the Machine was back in the game, and Shaw's cover was supposedly intact still.

“What about the...other guys who helped us out?” Fusco glanced around nervously as if that had been enough to clue in the whole precinct about Elias and the Brotherhood.

“Floyd attempted to politely mug me in an alley earlier to let me know all her guys got out okay.” She needed to work on her people skills, but then he wasn't one to talk. She'd been very interested to know exactly what all the fuss had been about, but he'd given her stoic-Reese-face until she got bored and left.

“And Anthony?”

“Nothing from him or Elias, but that's probably a good sign.” If Elias was upset, Reese suspected he'd have found out about it by now in an unpleasant way.

Fusco nodded, but didn't relax. “And no word from big brother either?”

“Doubt I'd be the one to hear about that first.”

Reese wondered if it shouldn't be ‘big sister’ instead. That would make the Machine the first of the ‘sisters’ he seemed to keep acquiring in this job. Well, she'd definitely been messing with his head the longest.

Fusco took a sip of his coffee, made a face, and then sighed heavily. Reese couldn't blame him; everything yesterday had been adrenaline-pumping chaos and now they had to go back to the normal routine and wait until one of the others contacted them.

“We got any cases to look at?” he asked, poking at the folders on his desk.

Fusco stared at him in astonishment. “ _You_ are asking if we have work?”

Reese felt hurt. “Yeah, why? I mean it's a cover job, but it's still my job.”

“Never know that from how you act.” Fusco shook his head. “Yeah, we've got a homicide assigned to us here. Man found dead in Queens the other night…”

“Detective Fusco?”

Reese and Fusco both looked up.

“Dani Silva,” Reese said in some surprise. “What brings you here?”

She looked exhausted, like she hadn't been to sleep in days, and glanced around constantly as if expecting an attack.

“Need to talk to both of you. Somewhere private.”

Fusco and Reese exchanged a confused look and then led the way into one of the interrogation rooms.

“I saw what happened last night,” Dani said the second the door had shut.

Reese almost dropped his coffee.

“Wait,” Fusco said, holding up a hand to keep Dani from saying anymore. He motioned at Reese to deal with the camera on the wall and ducked out, presumably to make sure the viewing room next door was empty and nothing could pick up any audio. When he came back they both turned to Dani expectantly.

“Want to tell me what's going on now?” she asked sitting down in one of the chairs and eying them both suspiciously.

“Why don't you tell us what you saw first.” Reese needed to know before they spilled secrets.

For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse, but after a long pause she sighed and began speaking.

“Been keeping an eye on this guy who works for the Brotherhood. There's a rumor that the old leader of the gang, Dominic, got taken out recently and there's a new leader. So I've been tailing this guy, seeing if I could find anything out. A bunch of Brotherhood guys lead me to this nice neighborhood last night and the weird thing is there's a bunch of other gang members in the area too, from a different gang.”

Dani paused to look them both over. “I'd ask if you guys have heard of Elias but it's pretty clear you have since I saw you fighting alongside some of his top people last night. _And_ Brotherhood members. So how do two gangs that have been trying to wipe each other out come to be fighting alongside some of New York's finest?”

Reese winced. Yeah, she'd seen pretty much everything then.

“And who were all the guys who showed up in cars with fake plates to try and kill you? And why did they say on the news that it was a fire?”

Fusco was trying to silently ask him a question, but their communication skills weren't quite at that level. Reese could hazard a guess though.

“I need to talk to Shaw before I can answer any of this,” he said partly to Dani and partly to Fusco.

“Shaw,” Dani echoed. “She was one of the women there that night when we went after the Trinitarios. Is she who you report to? Some sort of black ops unit buried undercover in the NYPD?” She shook her head. “Makes no sense.”

“She's...let's just say I can't tell you anything more without her say so.”

He stepped out of the room to try and raise Shaw over the comms.

“We're supposed to be laying low today,” she responded after a few seconds. He could hear the sound of traffic in the background.

“We were. But, uh, someone came looking for us.”

“Who'd you piss off this time?”

He scowled at the wall in front of him, insulted. He didn't piss off people _that_ often.

“So, uh, remember Dani Silva?”

“The IA cop who went to gang division. What'd she want?”

“An explanation. Guess she saw our little get together last night.”

He heard Shaw curse under her breath.

“How much?”

“All of it.”

“How did you not notice that?”

Reese scowled again because that was tremendously unfair.

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was the large number of people trying to kill me. Might have been a bit distracting.”

Shaw sighed heavily into the comm. “Think you can spin a story she'd believe?”

“Like what?”

“Ugh, I don't know. You and Fusco have worked with her more. What do you think she'd do if we told her?”

“The truth?”

“Part of it, anyway. Leave out the AI bit if we can.”

Reese wasn't sure what that left them with.

“I think she's really damn smart and isn't going to accept a half-assed answer, but I don't want to throw her into the middle of this. Especially right now.” Which reminded him. “How’s the Machine, by the way?”

“Still mostly silent but she at least gave Root a little indication that she was still in there.”

“Well that's a relief.” Root had been less upset than he'd expected her to be last night which had only worried him more. She was damn good at compartmentalizing and that never ended well. He should know.

“I don't want to live in that subway any longer than I have to. As secret hideouts go it's pretty cool, but the shower situation is pathetic and the bed is…” Shaw broke off and cleared her throat.

Reese shook his head. Where exactly did she think he thought she was sleeping there? And he knew about the shower situation there because he was the one who'd rigged it up.

He could have pointed out that Shaw wasn't the one who was stuck in the subway until the Machine came back online so there was no reason she _had_ to be there at all, but that would have been mean and even though he was still in a bit of a snit about the whole not-noticing-Dani-while-people-were-trying-to-murder-him thing he let it go.

“So, Dani,” he said, moving back to the original topic.

“Yeah, fuck, I don't know. What do you think she'd do if she found out?”

“She can't really arrest us. Who would believe her? Beyond that, I'm not sure. The Machine did want to recruit her.”

“She's got a lot of potential,” Shaw admitted.

Reese wasn't sure there was a higher compliment that could come from Shaw.

“Be easier if the Machine was functional. Could just bring her by and introduce her.”

“Not a good time for that,” Shaw agreed. “Think you can stall her for a day?”

“Will the Machine be back by then?”

“No way of knowing. Just...tell her what you have to.”

Reese thought he heard Zoe's voice in the background.

“I need to go, Reese. Tell her or toss her out on her ass. Your call.”

“Well, that was less than useful,” Reese grumbled as the line went dead.

He went to get some more coffee for all of them to give himself time to think it through.

 

* * *

 

There was music playing in the subway when Shaw returned later that evening. She dropped the bag of food off on the table and then followed the sounds over to the subway car where Root appeared to be sound asleep with her head cradled in her arms on the desk. The music filled the small space, piped in over the speakers.

It was odd, Shaw thought, it almost sounded familiar. Like hearing a new song by an old band. But she was fairly sure she’d never heard the Machine’s music before. It had always been reserved for Root and Root alone. So where had she heard it before? And why was the Machine allowing her to hear it now?

Root hadn’t stirred when she came into the subway car. She might have been getting more sleep now than she had been but it took a damn long time to make up for being as burnt out as she’d been. And the bad dreams hadn’t stopped either.

She tentatively brushed the hair back off Root’s face with one finger, as lightly as she could manage, tucking it back behind her good ear. Root’s lips parted for a second and she let out a little sigh in her sleep. Shaw pulled her hand back and watched her breathing for a few more seconds before she remembered that the takeout she’d brought was getting cold.

“Root, wake up,” she said, shaking her shoulder gently.

It took a few seconds for Root to emerge from the deep sleep she’d fallen into, blinking her eyes and looking around as she got her bearings. She looked up at Shaw and smiled sleepily.

The music over the speakers changed, added a second melody line, and Shaw froze. Because she was positive she’d heard this one before. She couldn’t remember when or where but she was absolutely sure.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Root asked, and then yawned hugely.

“This music she’s playing, what is it?”

Something flickered through Root’s eyes. “It’s...just something she plays for me sometimes. No real meaning.” Shaw could see the lie in her eyes, but before she could press further Root’s whole face lit up. “She’s letting you hear it.” That seemed to please her.

Whatever the music really meant, Root didn’t feel like sharing and considering how much of herself Root had already shared that meant there was probably a reason she was holding it back. Shaw pushed her curiosity down.

“I brought food,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb. “Second time today I’ve spent money on you, so you’d better eat it.”

The music stopped playing sometime in the middle of dinner and its absence made the subway feel large and hollow. They both turned to look at the monitors when it happened, but there was still nothing.

The rest of the meal was largely Root talking about various things she’d found in all the code they’d stolen and how this or that bit made some other bit make more sense and some nonsense about consistent naming conventions and well-commented code and so on and so forth. Shaw only half-listened and nodded at appropriate intervals, mostly content to let Root’s nerd chatter wash over her.

“You can finish it then? For sure?” she asked when Root paused for breath.

Root nodded enthusiastically. “As sure as I can be.”

“How long?”

“That depends on…” Root gestured sideways with her head towards the subway car. “She could speed things up for me.”

“And without her?”

Root smiled without humor. “Without Her it won't matter, Sameen. The thing we've been writing is a way for Her to fight Samaritan.”

Shaw had sort of known that but hearing it out loud was still unsettling. Even more unsettling was how calm Root looked despite that knowledge. She'd been _too_ calm compared to how she'd reacted when the Machine had offered her location up for them. Which meant she was either trying to deal with it on her own, or not dealing with it at all.

They couldn't afford to have Root pull another suicidal stunt like she had after the stock exchange.

She stood up abruptly enough that Root raised an eyebrow at her. She raised the other eyebrow when Shaw walked around the table and stood behind her. Root spun around on the bench to face her.

“Did you want something, sweetie?” She smiled and let her eyes roam openly over Shaw.

“Yeah.”

She put one knee on the bench next to Root and shoved her shoulders until she leaned back against the table on her elbows, take out containers getting pushed aside.

“Don't I get to finish my dinner?” Root teased. “Or are we skipping right to dessert?”

Shaw bent over her, bringing her face so close, watching Root's lips part and her eyes shine. At the last second she moved away, ignoring Root's lips and pushing forward to bite the lobe of her left ear, gentle at first and then a little harder. A tiny whimper escaped Root, breathed almost right into Shaw's ear, and damn if that wasn't hot.

Shaw shifted her weight so she could pull her other leg up on the other side of Root and straddle her. Root was wearing some ridiculous cotton shorts she'd probably had lying around in her room and Shaw wondered if she'd even bothered to put on anything under them.

She sank down onto Root's lap, planted her hands on the table next to her arms, and moved her mouth down and away from Root's ear to drag her teeth across the side of her throat. She dug her teeth in a little more at the base of her throat and Root arched up into her, one arm leaving the table to hold Shaw's head in place, fingers digging into her scalp.

“I can tell, you know,” Shaw breathed into Root's good ear after she'd finally given up on leaving enough marks on her neck that even Reese the oblivious boy wonder would notice tomorrow. “When you're hiding stuff. You never were very good at lying to me.”

“What am I--” Root let out a slight gasp when Shaw ran her tongue over the shell of her ear and nipped lightly at the top of it. “--mmm, what am I hiding, Sameen?”

Shaw pulled back enough to give her a completely disdainful look before finally kissing her deeply and insistently. If Root was upset she sure couldn't tell it from the way she returned the kiss, opening her mouth to let Shaw’s tongue explore and digging her nails into Shaw's shoulder hard enough to leave bruises. Shaw let her arms wrap around Root and breathed an unintended moan into her mouth when she rolled her hips up into her.

She pulled back, not having planned on things getting this far. Root was more or less panting when she broke the kiss off and Shaw ran her eyes over the mess she'd turned her into, pleased with herself.

But she'd had a reason for starting all this, and as distracting as having a squirmy bundle of Root under her was, she didn't want to get sidetracked. Yet.

She didn't even begin to know how to say what she wanted.

“You don't have to tell me everything, or anything. But you don't have to not tell me anything either.” She grimaced (because somehow that line had come out way smoother in her head) and dropped her head down to butt against Root's shoulder, regretting her decision to try and talk about this. “I just meant, you know, the Machine being...whatever...and you haven't said anything but sometimes you don't when you should…”

She was aware that she was making this worse and simultaneously completely at a loss as to what she actually should have said. Could most people just magically follow their feelings into the correct words? Sounded like bullshit.

“Can I just fuck you on the table and we'll talk about this later?” she asked without raising her head.

Root chuckled and Shaw stiffened a little until she felt hands run up her arms and settle on her shoulders, thumbs digging in just right. Root didn't try to make her look up (for which she was grateful), but she did lean forward to lightly head butt her.

“If I told you upfront that I was okay, would you still fuck me on the table?”

Shaw half-smiled despite herself. “I'd think about it.” She lifted her head and then jerked back in surprise when Root surged in to kiss her. Root's forehead connected with her nose and she staggered back up to her feet, glaring.

Root laughed and rubbed her forehead with one hand. “Such a graceful assassin you are, sweetie.”

“How was that my fault?” Shaw growled.

She let the force of her annoyance carry her around Root to shove all the takeout dishes onto the floor (fuck it, Root could clean them up later as punishment for almost breaking her nose) and then manhandled Root up onto the table so she could climb on top of her. She was pleased to note that Root was wearing a short-sleeved button-down shirt (that was shockingly not Shaw's) and since she thought she'd seen it lying on the floor last night that meant it was already dirty laundry which Root would never bother to wash so there was no reason she couldn't just….

The buttons popped off and flew across the room making satisfying clattering noises when they landed.

“That's the third shirt you've destroyed,” Root said. “And you wonder why I keep stealing yours.” Her voice was satisfyingly breathy though and Shaw settled herself on top of her, bunching up those stupid shorts, and grinding down a little. She watched with a smirk as Root's head fell back against the table with a stifled moan.

“That's bullshit and you know it,” Shaw told her. She ran her hands up, across Root's stomach, digging her thumbnail in along the edge of a long crooked scar on her ribs, while continuing to grind against her. One of Root's hands smacked down on the table next to her, painted black fingernails clawing at the wood.

Shaw pulled her shirt off over her head so that she could fall forward onto Root and feel her skin against hers while she kissed her. Root's hands found their way to the back of her head to pull out the messy remains of Shaw's ponytail and thread her fingers into her hair.

When she was finally allowed to surface from the kiss, Shaw propped herself up on her forearms so she could look down at Root. Her face was flushed, her lips were swollen from kissing, and her eyes were half-lidded and full of heat. Shaw was suddenly very aware of Root's heaving chest pressed so closely to her own, but somehow it was Root's heartbeat more than anything that she found herself focused on. The pounding, fluttering proof that Root was alive and here with her.

She wondered at the odds of this situation here and now, at every little choice she and Root and hundreds of others had made to lead them here. She wondered if the Machine had mapped all the possibilities out, stored all the other possible outcomes away somewhere in an abandoned library of paths not taken. If even the smallest change could radically alter the outcome of their lives, how had they ended up here against those odds?

She could have died for real when Hersh had injected her, that bullet could have killed Root the night before Samaritan came online, she could have bled to death after the stock exchange, and they'd both been in real danger yesterday. If the Machine hadn't intervened and Samaritan had decided to kill them, or (probably worse) take one or both of them prisoner….

She didn't think she'd let any of her thoughts show on her face, but Root’s lips curled into a huge Cheshire grin as she stared up at her.

“Did you forget what comes next, sweetie?” She tightened her grip on Shaw's hair, pulling her head down so she could whisper in her ear. “Because it better be me.”

Root's perfect record of making Shaw roll her eyes before either of them got off remained intact.

Root hooked a leg up and around Shaw's waist so she could press into her better and Shaw forgot whatever it was she'd been wasting time thinking about and went back to kissing Root and sliding her body against hers. Much better than awkward staring, she decided.

She was in the middle of debating what Root would do if she used her knife to cut her bra off (it didn't look _too_ expensive) when Root grabbed her hips.

“Wait.” She wasn't looking at Shaw anymore, but past her towards the subway car. Her expression lit up with a very different kind of pleasure from before.

“I can hear you,” she said, her whole face glowing.

Shaw groaned, probably louder than absolutely necessary. “Seriously? _Now_ she comes back online? Did she do this on purpose?”

She didn't think the Machine would ever have held out a second longer than she had to before letting Root know she was okay, but _still_. The worst timing ever.

She climbed off Root who sat up, her head tilted to one side as she listened to the Machine. After a second she turned back to Shaw with a wicked grin.

“She says don't let Her stop us and She'll still be there when we're done.”

“So she's just going to watch us fuck on a table all night?”

“All night?” Root raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a good time.”

“Too late, she's ruined the mood.” Shaw got off the table, fuming a bit, but secretly very relieved. With the Machine back, things had a path to being okay again. Their plans could go forward. Root would be alright.

Root smiled and shook her head at Shaw's little huff and then climbed down to the floor and looped her fingers around Shaw's wrist.

“Come on,” she said, her shirt hanging open around her as she tugged Shaw after her. “Let's both go say hello.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story, I meant to go back and add a section with Control and Hersh but then I added like 1k words to Shoot making out instead. Oops. Like...they were already making out and I was like well what if...what if they just...made out more? Poor Hersh. One day he'll get a POV again.
> 
> I've settled on 'the discord twins' for Martine and Lambert and I cherish their hatred of each other.
> 
> The wonderful [marina-does-things](http://marina-does-things.tumblr.com) did _more_ amazing fan art for this fic which you should go check out immediately [here](http://marina-does-things.tumblr.com/post/158308394566/sleepy-shoot-and-bear-inspired-by).
> 
> Also I've now been writing this and releasing almost weekly for about half a year. That's...nuts. It's been a lot like having a second job, but not in a bad way at all.
> 
> Sorry this chapter took a little longer. Last weekend I was in Vegas for the Shoot panel and I really think that's the best excuse possible.


	35. New Friends, Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got unfortunately long. Sorry.

Shaw woke up to the sound of rain, and a cold, winter breeze tickling her skin. She cracked her eyes open enough to see the curtains flapping over the half-opened window and dim early-morning light filtering in.

Root wasn't in bed, she noted as she stretched under the covers, slowly waking up. The Machine had given her a new cover identity yesterday so they'd been able to come back to Shaw's apartment, but Root had stayed up late working. Shaw had figured that finally getting the code she needed would put an end to Root's now-almost-normal sleep schedule, but it still sent a twinge of annoyance through her.

She had a hazy memory of Root climbing into bed in the middle of the night, but she wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it. Wishful thinking maybe.

She heard the sound of the bathroom door opening in the hall and bare feet on the wood floor, headed towards the living room.

“Root?” she called, just loudly enough for her voice to carry. She could have gotten up but she felt very comfortable there with the cold air from the window making a nice contrast to how warm she was under the blankets.

Root's head popped around the door frame, her hair hanging in loose wet strands around her. She’d been in the shower, Shaw realized.

“Hey, sweetie, I didn't wake you, did I?” Root rubbed at her hair with a towel as she came across the floor towards the bed.

She must not have been planning on going out (at least not right away), because she was only wearing an oversized t-shirt that hung halfway down her thighs. The shirt was mercifully free of shitty nerd puns, and covered in dark patches from her wet hair. Shaw’s fingers twitched with a sudden urge to ball her fingers into the shirt, pull Root down, and strip it off of her. She let the moment pass in favor of getting some answers.

“What time is it?” she asked, propping herself up on her pillows a bit.

Root sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and continued rubbing at her hair with the towel.

“Six-twenty. Bright and early.” She glanced at the rain falling outside the window. “Well, early anyway.”

“Way too early for you,” Shaw agreed. “Did you even go to sleep?”

Root chuckled. “You don't remember socking me with a pillow when I crawled in bed and woke you up?”

She definitely didn't remember that part, though she was slightly impressed with herself. “Must not have been fully awake.” She glanced out at the steady fall of rain. “You got errands for her today?”

She'd expected Root to be whisked away the minute the Machine had come back. It had been over a day now with no whisking, but that couldn't last.

The Machine’s silence after her retreat to the subway had apparently been her using most of her power to inspect herself, ensure she hadn't been compromised by any Samaritan attack, and rework some things so she was getting the most out of her new hardware. With all systems a go now it wouldn't be long before they got a new number.

“Hmmm, not exactly errands.” Root watched the rain with unfocused eyes. She’d stopped drying her hair and the long strands were slowly soaking her shirt.

‘Not exactly errands’ sounded a lot like Root was going on another long trip for the Machine. She poked her in the ribs.

“If you have enough time before your cryptic not-errands, that thing with Dani is today.”

Root frowned out the window for a moment and then turned to her, coming back from wherever her mind had wandered off to this time.

“I'm still not sure bringing her to the subway is a good idea,” she said at last.

Shaw hadn't been thrilled either, but the Machine was keeping contact outside the subway to a bare minimum. If they were going to introduce Dani to her then the subway was the only way to go. It had been John's idea, and even though something about it felt odd, they couldn't pull someone into this mess at this stage in the game without a full explanation.

“If you have a better idea…”

Root only shook her head and resumed her half-hearted attempts to dry her hair.

“You gonna be there when we bring Dani by?” Shaw pressed.

“I think we should have time.”

“We?” Shaw’s eyes narrowed. What had the Machine signed her up for this time?

“Oh, I didn't tell you about the job She has for us, did I?” Root was trying very hard to look innocent.

“No, Root. No, you did not. So spill.”

“Road trip round two. But with a lot more driving and a lot less being stuck in the woods. We're going to go bail out my team from their hideout and move them somewhere else. She's worried about their safety.”

Her team must mean those computer nerds she'd worked on the Samaritan servers with. And Sulaiman Khan was possibly still there, too.

“Why do _we_ have to do this?” A couple days on the road with Root had potential, but this mission sounded an awful lot like babysitting.

Root’s face shut down for half a second before reworking itself into an unconcerned facade.

“Well, not all hackers have my skills with a gun,” Root said, voice overly cheerful, “but you're right that it's a bit overkill to send us both. She doesn't think I should need your backup and there's probably going to be a lot going on here with Dani and all.”

Shaw watched her, expressionlessly, thinking through both her words and reactions. She knew she'd gotten better at this, at figuring out what was going on in Root's head. She might not know what it felt like to experience things like Root did, but she could try to understand how Root reacted, what set off her quicksilver mood changes.

The Machine hadn't planned to send her along, she realized. That had been Root's idea. Whether the Machine had agreed or Root had just pretended it was her idea wasn't clear, or important. By ‘we’ Shaw had meant why did it require either of them, not why did she have to tag along, but Root had immediately assumed the worst possible meaning. Would she ever hit a point where she stopped expecting Shaw to push her away?

She studied her closely guarded expression. Root may have had her fair share of scars written across her skin, but there were a lot more that were hidden, invisible. Dark thought patterns that dug their claws in too deeply to be easily escaped.

Shaw wasn't awake enough to have a serious adult conversation about Important Life Shit, so she tugged on Root's arm until she got the idea and crawled up onto the bed to straddle her legs.

“Might be nice to get out of town for a few days,” Shaw said as she slid her hands under Root's shirt and rubbed along her warm back, digging in a little with her thumbs.

This part, the casual contact, still didn't feel instinctual and probably never would, but it was getting easier for her. It helped that she just damn well liked touching Root, enjoyed running her hands over her skin and tangling them in her hair.

“I'll pack a bag before I head to the subway,” she said. “Reese can deal with stuff for a day or two.”

Root's face lit up again, suffused with genuine happiness. Her eyes shone with that look that warmed Shaw down to her toes despite the winter breeze from the window. Root batted the sheets aside enough that she could move her hands up under Shaw's shirt and place her palms, still warm from the shower, on Shaw's stomach. Shaw expected the seemingly-innocent gesture to lead to some friskier explorations, but Root only kneaded her stomach lightly like a giant cat while her wet hair dripped on both of them.

Shaw let out a small content sigh. She felt pretty good right then and there with Root sitting in her lap, the gentle sound of rain from outside, and the early morning light casting the room in soft colors.

“Wanna wake me up properly before we go meet up with the others?” she asked as her hands continued to rub up and down Root's back.

“Mmm, definitely.”

 

* * *

 

“You never formally introduced _me_ to the Machine,” Zoe said.

She sat at the table in the subway across from Reese, drumming her nails on the wood. Reese couldn't tell if the cold look in her eyes was because she felt slighted or if she was trying to mess with him. He figured better foolish than sorry.

“We can do that today as well.”

The truth was it had never occurred to him that someone could actually be introduced to the Machine until she'd chosen to speak to him. Hell, they'd never done this for anyone before, not even Fusco. He'd felt weird telling Dani about the Machine without having them ‘meet’ and somehow the fact Fusco and Zoe had never interacted with her at all was now completely bizarre to him.

“If I'd known I would have put on my nice dress.”

Zoe’s tone was still impossible to read but he was almost positive he was being teased now. Almost.

“I don't think the Machine really has an eye for fashion,” he said cautiously. Probably best not to mention that the Machine would already know what every single one of Zoe's dresses looked like.

“Really? I would have thought she knew everything about fashion.” Zoe eyed the subway car thoughtfully. “Not only from a standpoint of current trends, but also from a historical perspective.”

“Uh…”

Well, she was probably right, but Reese had definitely never considered it that way. It made sense though; if the Machine could really access almost any form of digital information then she would have an unparalleled knowledge of _all_ of recorded history, not just recent events. He wondered how much of that she took into account when making predictions. Did history really repeat itself? Could she see it coming when it did? Did she know when bell-bottoms were likely to come back in fashion? Could she _prevent_ bell-bottoms from coming back in fashion?

“Does she have preferences?” Zoe continued. “Like a favorite color? Do things like that have any meaning to her?”

“Uhh…” he said again. Where the hell was Root? This was very definitely Root territory.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but only Shaw entered the subway. He was a little surprised she was alone since Root wasn't there already. He'd kind of assumed she would go back to staying with Shaw after the Machine had gotten her a new cover. Maybe they'd left at separate times?

“Zoe. Reese.” Shaw nodded minutely in greeting before squatting down to pet Bear.

She sniffed suspiciously. “Why does my dog smell like a flower shop?”

Reese had taken Bear home the previous night and given him a long-overdue bath.

“It's dog-friendly shampoo,” he explained. “They didn't really have a lot of choices. And it's not _that_ bad.” He'd thought it smelled sort of nice.

“Bear is a trained military dog. He's an elite canine operative. He shouldn't smell like fucking daffodils.”

Did daffodils even have a scent? He looked back at Zoe for help but she only pursed her lips in amusement and remained silent.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not when Root flounced into the subway in a loose knee-length skirt that was definitely not appropriate for the freezing November rain outside. Maybe this was all a very weird dream he was having and he'd wake up in his own bed with a flower-scented dog sleeping on him any minute now.

“What's wrong, sweetie?” Root immediately went over to stand next to where Shaw was hunched over Bear.

“Reese broke my dog.”

Root looked up at him with an eyebrow raised and a slightly dangerous grin. Sometimes lately with the way she basically melted around Shaw he forgot how damn terrifying she could be.

“I gave him a bath,” he protested weakly. He risked another look at Zoe but she was deeply preoccupied with her phone; only the ghost of a smile indicated that she was paying attention.

“He stinks more now than he did before,” Shaw grumbled.

Root bent down to sniff gingerly at Bear and then shrugged and straightened back up.

“I don't know, Shaw, I think he smells much better now.”

“See?” Reese said, feeling vindicated and relieved.

Shaw made a disgusted noise.

“Traitor,” she growled at Root who only patted her on the head fondly. “And why the hell are you wearing that?”

Root played with the edge of her skirt. “Don't you like it?”

“It's freezing out. How are you not dead?” Shaw finally stood back up and inspected Root as if she was a particularly disappointing raw recruit.

Root did have a small, light jacket on over her lacy blouse, but her legs were mostly bare and the strappy heeled sandals she was wearing couldn't be giving her feet any protection. She'd dropped an umbrella by the door when she'd come in, but other than that she was noticeably ill-equipped for the cold weather and Reese was pretty sure he could see her shivering despite her best efforts to hide it. It must have been for whatever her new cover identity was, he decided.

On the other hand, the subway was unpleasantly warm with all the server racks running hot. Maybe she'd dressed for a long day here?

He noticed her neck was covered in..hmmm...well, there was no way he was unseeing that. He wondered if the fact both her shirt and jacket left her neck very exposed was deliberate.

“Zoe's wearing a dress,” he pointed out, trying to make his brain move on. Root had rescued him from the shampoo situation so he figured he owed her one.

“Probably best to sit this one out, John.” Zoe didn't look at him as she spoke but did pause to glance over Root. “It does seem a bit chilly for it, but it's a nice skirt. And I've got a taser in my bag if either of them give you trouble,” Zoe told her.

Reese wasn't looking at Shaw, but he was willing to bet his second favorite gun she rolled her eyes. Root, on the other hand…. Her entire face stretched into a delighted grin. “You have a taser?” She basically ran over to the table.

Reese got up and retreated over to Shaw, feeling adrift in the rapidly changing alliances.

“Is it just me or is everything really weird today?” he asked her quietly over the background sounds of Zoe showing off her taser to Root.

“Definitely just you,” Shaw replied with a nasty smirk. Maybe she was still upset about the dog-shampoo situation.

“Knock, knock.” Fusco's voice preceded him into the subway. Dani Silva followed a few steps behind him, staring at everything.

Reese walked over to meet them, eager to move on from all the nonsense.

“Dani,” he said, “welcome to the subway.” Okay, so he made it sound a little dramatic, but it was a legitimate secret hideout.

“Hello, you must be Dani Silva.” Zoe had come over and extended her hand. “I'm Zoe Morgan.”

Dani shook her hand with a slightly dazed look. “I’ve heard of you. Just about the last person I expected to find here, though.”

“Yes, well, strange times, strange bedfellows.”

Reese looked back over his shoulder. Root was perched on the edge of the table, her legs kicking in space. She wasn't even looking at them, but over at the subway car. Meanwhile Shaw was watching Dani with a cool, assessing gaze. When Reese made a face at her she rolled her eyes and came over to join them.

“Shaw,” she said, briefly. “We've met.”

“I remember. You're one of the best shots I've ever seen.” Dani sounded like she approved.

Apparently _that_ got Root's attention because she popped up next to Shaw like an alert guard dog (the actual canine guard dog was prancing around asking for head scratches) and flashed all her teeth at Dani.

Reese held back a groan. He was admittedly terrible at these things but he didn't think Dani was even remotely interested in Shaw.

“I remember you, too,” Dani said to Root, looking understandably freaked out. “You, uh, were really good at predicting what the bad guys were gonna do. Kind of scary good.”

“Yeah, she knows way more than any human should,” Fusco agreed, “because she's got a supercomputer in her brain filling her in on everyone's dirty secrets.”

“Root is the Machine's analogue interface,” Reese said. He wondered if Shaw shouldn't be the one taking the lead here, but this sort of stuff wasn't her cup of tea. Out of all of them Zoe was best equipped to deal with social situations. By a long shot.

“A what?” Dani looked lost.

“I'm Her favorite,” Root explained, completely failing to clarify anything. She looped a hand around Shaw's wrist which, with the pronoun she'd used, probably only confused the matter more.

Shaw rolled her eyes but didn't pull her arm away.

“The Machine talks directly to Root,” Reese said hurriedly. “She works for her. With her. And with us sometimes.”

“So this AI, the Machine, gives her information about...people in trouble and she tells you?”

He'd tried to explain the basics to her, but it was a lot to take in.

“Sometimes. Usually the Machine, gives us information via payphone message or on the computers in there.” He gestured towards the subway car. “Why don't we move in there?” Anything to break the weird tension.

Root hung back when they moved to the subway car, hovering outside the doors and picking at the hem of her skirt with one hand. It occurred to him that maybe she wasn't really worried about the bizarre notion that Dani might have a crush on Shaw, but on guard about a relative stranger meeting the Machine and just acting like a train wreck in general. He thought back to how upset she'd been about Claire having a chat with the Machine.

He tried to smile reassuringly at her but she only gave him a pitying look, not impressed by his attempt to help.

“So, this--” he waved a hand at the monitors and the servers and all the other racks of electronics that had piled up. “--is the Machine. Uh, hello?”

The monitors stayed blank and he saw Root smirk. Why had he ever thought she'd be helpful in this situation?

Shaw finally seemed ready to engage and pushed to the front of the small crowd and rapped her knuckles on the side of a screen. “Hey, wake up! You're the one who was interested in her.”

He made a slightly choked noise of surprise at her irreverent tone and heard Root echo it. From the look on her face she'd never heard Shaw talk to the Machine before either, or at least not this way.

_Hello, Shaw._

Shaw looked smug.

“That's an Artificial Intelligence?” Dani asked, doubtfully.

Root got half a step forward before Shaw turned to throw a warning look at her. Root's eyes narrowed but she didn't move forward anymore. She leaned against the subway car door frame, her toothy smile reminding Reese of a crocodile.

The monitors were blank again when he looked back.

“It usually this chatty?” Fusco asked.

The lights in the subway station all went out, plunging them into almost-darkness. Only the glow of the monitors and the blinking lights on the server racks cast any light. Bear gave a small, distressed woof from the platform.

“Dani Silva.” They all turned at the sound of Root's voice. Her face was unearthly, glowing in the pale light of the monitors. “When you were in community college you had a friend named Rachel. Nice girl, but her boyfriend--” Root shook her head slightly. “--he wasn't so nice. So when she showed up to class with a black eye on day you went and found him later that night.”

Dani was frozen, staring at her, and Fusco was openly gaping. Zoe, on the other hand, was tapping her lips with one finger, thoughtfully, and Shaw’s face was twisted with exasperation.

Root pushed off the door and moved forward, her head tipped to one side as she regarded Dani almost lazily.

“Mandibular fractures can be pretty nasty. He had to have his jaw wired shut and also lost a couple teeth. He told everyone he fell while he was drunk, which was a lie of course. But he never went near Rachel again, did he?”

“Who the hell told you about that?” Dani sounded angry, but there was a tiny undercurrent of fear there as well.

“The Machine told her, obviously,” Shaw cut in. “Can you two knock it off with the dramatics already?”

Root shrugged and moved back to the doorway as if nothing had happened. The lights all came back on a few seconds later.

“That was, uh, the Machine?” Dani looked back and forth between the monitors and Root. “How did it know all that? Why did it tell her?”

“She knows everything,” Root said easily. “And I'm Her analogue interface. She prefers to use me to talk to most people.”

It occurred to Reese that maybe he'd rushed into this whole everyone-having-a-chat-with-the-AI thing. He'd never stopped to consider if she was willing to talk to other people. He wondered if he owed the Machine an apology. Or Root.

“It's almost time for us to leave, Shaw.” Root was back to normal now, no trace of her menacing presence remaining.

“Leave?” Reese turned to Shaw for an explanation.

“Yeah, Root and I are gonna be out of town for a few days on a mission.”

That was news to him. What about the Machine being ‘stuck’ in the subway? What about Dani?

“Anything I should be worried about?” he asked, hoping that covered the multitude of questions he had.

“Don't think so.”

Maybe he needed to be more specific after all.

“Actually, John,” Root interrupted, “She has a mission for you, too. The perfect thing to break in a new recruit with.”

“I haven't agreed to anything yet,” Dani said with a frown. She'd recovered quickly from the whole scene.

Root ignored her. “Think of it as a way to keep anyone from getting too hot-headed.” She smiled as if she'd said something truly witty and then grabbed Shaw’s arm and dragged her out of the subway car after her.

“Wait, what's the mission?” he called after them.

“She'll let you know.” Root gave a little wave. “Bye, Zoe.”

“Why do you get special treatment?” Reese asked Zoe. She only smiled at him and didn't answer.

“So wait, what happens now?” Fusco asked.

A window popped up on the monitors and opened up a map with a gps location marked. A long number appeared at the bottom of the screen. Reese glumly pulled his phone out to copy down the information.

“Now we go see what the Machine has in store for us.” He raised an eyebrow at Dani. “You game for this, Silva?”

Dani looked at the monitor for a long time and cast one glance after where Shaw and Root had vanished.

“It's my day off, anyway. Why not? And going by everything I've seen this far, at least it'll be interesting.”

 

* * *

 

Root switched the heat on as soon as Shaw started the car.

“Switching the lights out? Really? Both of you are over-dramatic losers.” Shaw had been saying variations of the same thing since they'd left the subway.

“That was my idea.” Root rubbed her hands in front of the heat vent, still shivering from the outdoors.

“Somehow that doesn't surprise me at all. Though I got the impression she wasn't too keen on chatting with everyone.”

“She's...cautious.” Root didn't know how best to describe it.

The Machine had been so expansive with her right from the start, almost as if She'd been waiting for someone to talk to. Root knew that She couldn't get lonely, not in the way a human did, but she didn't have a better word for it. It had been as if She’d been being denied a function She'd been built to perform. And once She'd had Root She'd never expressed a desire to talk to anyone else regularly. Root knew the She'd spoken with Shaw on several occasions, but mostly at Shaw's prompting, and she rather liked that the two of them seemed to mostly get along. But whatever need the Machine had for consistent, direct contact with another being, She'd made it clear that Root was all She required.

“So, are we all in the dog house now?” Shaw asked when they stopped at a red light. She didn't sound too concerned as she fussed around with the seat height lever again. The big SUV Root had ‘rented’ for them had mostly met with her approval.

“No, I don't think so. Why?”

“The whole shutting off the lights thing may have been your idea, but she carried it out. And you got that information on Dani from her. Thought maybe she was annoyed that Reese and I weren't more, ah, respectful.”

Root was still a little astonished at how causally Shaw had addressed Her, but after the initial shock had worn off she'd decided it felt fitting. Shaw and the Machine should both be able to be themselves around each other.

“I think if She'd minded She wouldn't have answered you at all.” She would have asked, but She wasn’t communicating outside the subway unless it was an emergency.

“Suppose not.” Shaw reached out and slammed the vent nearest to her shut. “You know, if you weren't dressed like you were ready for a summer picnic you wouldn't be freezing.”

“I can turn it off if you'd like.” She reached out to grab the temperature dial but Shaw smacked her hand away.

“I hope you packed warmer clothes. Winter storm is supposed to hit later and we're driving right into it.”

“That's why we had to leave on time. To make sure we didn't get stuck in the storm.” The Machine had timed it out for her last night.

“Hmph.”

Once they made it out of the city and onto the highway, Root pulled her laptop out and tried to find a way to angle it so she could see the screen with all the glare. It was mostly futile, and she gave up after about thirty minutes and slumped in her seat. Outside, the rain had stopped and snow flurries were starting to fall.

In the late afternoon, Root told Shaw to pull over at a rest stop. Normally it would still have been quite light out, but the storm clouds had blocked out enough of the sun that everything was a uniform grey. The snow was only sticking a little so far, but it was falling pretty hard, further reducing visibility and slowing traffic to a crawl.

“Park over there.” She pointed towards the far end of the rest stop lot, which was empty of cars and right near the tree line. With the snow coming down this hard they'd be practically invisible there.

“What's the plan here?” Shaw asked after she put the parking brake on and undid her seat belt. “Thought we were trying to beat the storm?”

“Oh, don't worry. I had Her account for a brief stop.” She unfastened her seat belt.

“Root…” Shaw sounded deeply suspicious.

Root leaned over and yanked the bar underneath Shaw's chair, sliding it all the way back. When she straightened up she was surprised to find Shaw hadn't reacted at all. She couldn't get a read on her so she figured she'd stick to her plan.

Her plan, which she'd brilliantly devised the previous night, involved her climbing over the center divider in the car and settling herself on top of Shaw, carefully arranging her skirt so it wasn't pressed between them.

“Seriously?” Shaw asked, though her voice was a little lower and her hands were already running up and down the sides of Root's bare legs.

“I'm a very serious person, Sameen.”

She laced her fingers together behind Shaw's neck and leaned forward to bring their lips together. Shaw's hands left her legs to grab her hips and pull her as tightly against herself as the cramped conditions allowed.

“No,” Shaw said when they came up for breath. “I meant you seriously had the Machine schedule in a sex break on a time-sensitive drive through a blizzard?”

“She likes a challenge.”

Shaw snorted and tugged lightly on Root's skirt. “And this is why you've been freezing your ass off all day? I'm pretty sure we could have made this work regardless. It's not like I've ever had any trouble getting into your pants before.”

Root delightedly stored that away as the _second_ bad sex pun she'd ever heard from Shaw.

“Mmm, maybe I just liked the idea of you with your hands up my skirt, secure in our little car, in the middle of a snow storm.”

Shaw let her hands roam back up Root's legs.

“Well, after you went to so much effort, it'd be rude of me not to play along.”

Her hands danced a little higher but never quite where Root wanted them.

“Of course, I’ve been known to be pretty rude.”

Root pushed forward trying to press into Shaw's wandering hands and enjoying the sensation of Shaw's jeans rubbing against her legs.

Shaw dragged her nails down Root's thighs hard enough that she knew they'd leave marks. A tiny noise escaped from the back of her throat and she pressed her face into the crook of Shaw's neck.

“Sweetie, as much as I hate to rush you, we're on a tight schedule here.”

“Oh, are we?” Shaw sounded amused. “Well, in that case….”

The dashboard clock reported that it had been an almost embarrassingly short amount of time before Shaw dumped Root, sated and boneless, back in the passenger's seat. She was too blissed out to even protest when Shaw climbed out of the car and a blast of cold air hit her. She heard the trunk open and shut and then Shaw was back, tossing a pile of clothes on her lap.

“Whenever you can move again put your goddamn pants on. It's the middle of winter for fuck’s sake.”

Shaw had melting snowflakes in her hair and her cheeks were red from her brief exposure. Root smiled at her, languid and drowning in a level of deep affection she rarely allowed herself to indulge in so openly. Shaw took in her expression and shook her head.

“Guess you can cross that off your bucket list now.” She looked back out the windshield at the heightening storm. “And guess I'm driving the whole way.”

“I'll be able to drive in a few minutes,” Root protested, feebly.

“You're going to take a nap,” Shaw said firmly, “because when we get to the hotel you owe me one for granting your weird blizzard sex fantasy.” She started the engine. “At least one.”

 

* * *

 

“So Shaw is the, uh, leader? Boss? Captain? Of you lot?” Dani asked.

Reese glanced at her in the rear view mirror. She and Fusco were both crammed in the backseat of his car, Zoe having been granted the passenger's seat without any discussion being necessary.

“She makes the calls,” Reese agreed. He wondered if Shaw would get a kick out of getting called ‘boss’. Probably not.

“And Root?”

“Root's kind of an independent agent. She works directly for the Machine, though she listens to Shaw more than she listens to anyone else, I suppose.”

“Don't think she liked me very much.”

“She's not a big fan of most people. Except Shaw. And possibly Zoe.” He wasn't completely sure where her friendship with Zoe stood.

“I seem to remember her staying in the hospital with you after the whole hypothermia incident,” Zoe pointed out.

She wasn't wrong, though Reese had felt it would be presumptuous to say Root gave a shit about him. He knew she did, but he wasn't sure she'd like that he knew.

“Hey, what about me?” Fusco asked.

“Well, Lionel,” Reese said, “I think if you were on fire she'd chuck an extinguisher in your general direction at least.” Which was probably more than she'd do for most people without the Machine prompting her to.

Fusco muttered under his breath, too quietly for Reese to hear.

“And she and Shaw are, uh….?” Dani's inflection held the full question.

Reese had no clue how to answer that one. He thought he knew what Root and Shaw were to each other, but it wasn't something he'd put words to before. How did he explain them to someone who was essentially an outsider?

“Shaw’s in charge of missions and Root's the Machine’s voice,” Zoe said. “So they work pretty closely together. What they do in their own time is their business.” She sounded firm, though not unfriendly.

Reese was grateful for her answer even if he had been on the receiving end of several amusing and mildly gossipy texts from Zoe about Root and Shaw. And maybe he'd sent her a few, too. That was a little different, he felt. They were their friends and were only sharing things Root and Shaw had let them see anyway. They weren't trying to pry. Well, mostly weren't.

“Sorry,” Dani said, “just trying to figure out how all this works.”

“You and me both,” Fusco agreed.

Reese pulled the car over into a parking space only two blocks from their destination. Actually finding parking in the city just added to his theory that this whole day was some sort of dream.

Everyone climbed out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Dani looked at him expectantly.

How was he in charge now? It was no fair that Shaw got to run off on some mission with Root that they were probably both enjoying _way_ too much and he got left to deal with things.

“This way.” He headed towards the location on his phone map. Zoe fell into step next to him with the other two trailing behind.

“You sure you want to tag along?” he asked her again.

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be.” She pulled her phone out of her purse and checked something on it. “Shaw just texted me. She wants to know if you've managed to mess everything up yet. Her words, not mine.”

Reese thought about sending her back a rude message of his own, but while it was safe for her to text her ‘employer’ (as long as she kept things conveniently vague) he wasn't going to risk blowing their cover.

“You should ask her if Root's managed to mess _her_ up yet.”

Zoe chuckled but put her phone away.

“This seems to be the place,” Reese said, looking up at the address above a door. It looked like a warehouse of some sort and an uneasy memory of the Samaritan training facility in Brooklyn swam to the front of his mind.

“It's a storage warehouse for large electronic appliances,” Dani said from behind him. “We need a fridge?”

“How…?”

She held up her phone. “I googled it? Like a normal person? You need to get with the times.”

It was supremely unfair that with both Root and Shaw out of town he'd somehow managed to acquire a new person to give him a hard time.

The first snowflakes of the forecasted blizzard started swirling down around them and he pulled his coat a little tighter.

“Let's go take a look inside,” he suggested. “Maybe it'll make sense once we see what's in there.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw sneezed so hard she almost hit her head on the steering wheel.

“Sweetie…” Root began.

“Shut up.” She thought she'd made it clear that this was _not_ a discussion they were going to have.

Root gave an unnecessarily loud sigh and went back to looking out the window at the snow swirling around their car on the highway. She remained silent until Shaw sneezed again five minutes later.

“Sameen.” Root sounded exasperated and possibly amused which just made Shaw angrier.

“I'm not sick, Root. So shut up.” Sameen Shaw did _not_ get sick. She could count the number of times she'd been sick in her entire life on the fingers of one hand and still have enough fingers left to go for a second round with Root.

“Well, you _were_ out in the rain and the snow today.”

“That's not how viruses work, genius. More likely caught it from one of you assholes. If I was actually sick, I mean. Which I'm not.” Her nose was uncomfortably stuffy though and her throat felt a bit sore.

Root leaned over to feel her forehead with the back of one hand. “Well, you don't have a fever.”

Shaw batted her hand away. “Knock it off. I'm driving here.”

Root sighed again. “What's the saying? Doctors make the worst patients?”

“I'm not a doctor and I'm _definitely_ not a patient.”

“We probably have enough time to stop somewhere and get some cold medicine.”

“Root, I'm _fine_. Just...stop.”

She sneezed again.

Fuck.

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” Reese said, “here's the plan.”

He glanced around the cover of the overly large boxes that were everywhere on the warehouse floor. The lone security guard was wandering around slowly, more interested in his phone than anything else.

“I'm going to circle around behind him. When I'm in position, you--” He pointed at Dani. “--get his attention. Then I'll move in and knock him out.”

There were much easier ways of dealing with one guard, but he wanted to show Dani that caution could pay off.

“Why do I have to be the distraction?” Dani argued in a whisper. “Why don't you go chat up the guard?”

“Uh, guys?” Fusco tried to get their attention.

“Because I'm the one with the most experience here,” Reese argued back.

“Which part of your plan involved Zoe approaching that guy on her own?” Fusco asked.

Reese and Dani stopped arguing and turned to look at him.

“She didn't…” Reese looked around their cover again.

Zoe was waving cheerfully at the security guard. He looked up, no doubt surprised to see someone there at all and started towards her. Reese stood up and broke into a run.

By the time he reached them Zoe was standing over the guard's unconscious body, tapping her pink taser on one leg, and looking pleased with herself.

“Well, that was fun. Maybe I should tag along more often.”

“I guess this way works, too,” Reese said, looking down at the twitching guard.

Dani caught up with them.

“I told you that you were making it too complicated,” she said.

Reese tried to look to Fusco for support but he was studying the side of one of the storage boxes nearby and ignoring them.

“You still got that number that Skynet gave us? The long one?” Fusco asked.

Reese pulled it up on his phone and Fusco pointed at a number printed on the box. They weren't the same, but the lengths were comparable.

“Some sort of product ID number,” Fusco said. “Maybe we really _are_ here for a fridge.”

Reese turned to take in the endless rows of boxes in the warehouse.

“I hope these things are stored in numeric order or we're going to be here all day. And night.”

Fortunately they found boxes with the correct numbers on them about twenty minutes later. Reese read the rest of the writing on the side of the enormous box and then groaned and ran a hand down his face.

“What's wrong?” Dani asked.

“Root said this mission was ‘a way to keep anyone from getting too hot-headed’.”

“So?”

Reese jabbed a finger at the words on the side of the box which read: ‘Portable Air Conditioner Unit’.

 

* * *

 

The hotel room wasn't half bad, though not nearly as nice as the one they'd had before the party, much to Shaw's disappointment. There was a big bed with super fluffy pillows that looked very inviting, but she refused to let Root make her lie down.

Okay, so maybe she _was_ sick. But it was still only a cold. Colds weren’t a real threat to her, only obnoxious and impossible to get rid of. Sort of like Root.

She made sure to point this out to her.

It was sort of refreshing to see Root be the one constantly exasperated for a change.

“I'm going to run out and find a drug store,” Root said after she'd given up on getting Shaw to go to bed. “You should at least take a hot shower. You'll feel better.”

“Feel just fine,” Shaw said, rubbing at her nose. She refused to be fussed over like a child.

“You look real fine, too, sweetie, but I'm still getting you some Nyquil.”

Shaw chose to remain silent until Root was almost out the door.

“Root…”

She looked back at Shaw.

“Get some tissues? The nice ones that don't scratch holes in your face.”

Root's lips quirked up into a smile. “Of course.”

Once Root was gone she wandered into the bathroom to assess the shower situation and decided that a hot shower couldn't _hurt_ and it wasn't like she wouldn't have to take one anyway.

Root wasn't back when she got out, so after a few minutes of pacing around the room sniffling she crawled under the covers of the large bed. Just for a minute.

Root opening the door woke her up and she sat up blinking.

“You get lost?” she asked, even though she wasn't sure how long it had been. Her throat felt scratchy and raw.

“Got us dinner.” Root hefted a bag. “Thought you might be hungry.”

She handed a second bag over to Shaw that seemed to contain the entirety of the cold remedy aisle from a drug store. Shaw gave up and took a decongestant before joining Root for dinner at the small table.

“So where are we moving these nerds to?” she asked when they finished eating.

“She gave me a location to drive them to,” Root said as she cleaned off the table. “I got the impression She'd arranged alternate transportation for them after that. We only need to see them safely out of the immediate area.”

This was, Shaw realized, one of the few time she could remember Root cleaning up without being told to. Maybe she should get sick more often.

“How far?”

“About a five hour drive from where we pick them up.” Root came to stand next to Shaw's chair and reached out to tuck some of her hair back. “You want to go back to sleep?”

It was a question now rather than a pointed suggestion like earlier and Shaw nodded. She suspected Root had thought things over while she was out and purposefully changed tactics. She also wondered if she should be pleased or upset about that.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Root didn't try to fuss over her while they got ready for bed and acted almost like she'd forgotten Shaw was sick at all other than placing a box of tissues on the nightstand. Shaw curled up on her side of the bed, almost able to breathe normally again. Root slid under the covers a few seconds later but stayed all the way on the other side.

Shaw frowned in the darkness. They slept on opposite sides of the bed all the time at her apartment, but something about staying somewhere else made her expect Root to sleep closer. She half-turned over and prodded Root in the back.

“Hmmm?” Root sounded almost asleep already. She hadn't planned out how to ask Root for what she wanted so she continued to prod her with one finger until Root rolled over enough that she could grab her arm and drag her across the bed. Root got the idea and curled up around her back, arms snaking around her, and breath warm on her neck. She didn't usually let Root wrap herself around behind her this way, but she was willing to make an allowance tonight. A side effect of the cold medicine, she decided.

“You’ve probably already caught my cold,” Shaw said after Root settled in.

“Mmm, probably. You can nurse me back to health as an apology.”

Shaw huffed. “In your dreams.”

“You do a lot more than that in my dreams.”

“I bet.”

“Get some sleep, Shaw. We have to wake up early tomorrow.”

It was early for either of them to be going to bed at all, Shaw realized. Especially Root. She'd expected her to be up half the night on her laptop. Had she foregone that to convince Shaw to sleep? She didn't need that sort of thing. But Root felt warm and soft up against her and she never did sleep enough so maybe Shaw wouldn't make an issue of it. For Root's sake.

 

* * *

 

“This wasn't exactly what I imagined a secret vigilante group on the run from the government did for fun.” Dani sat in the chair in the subway car watching Reese wrestle the second enormous air conditioning unit into place.

“Well, it's a Sunday. We try not to get shot at on Sundays.” He plugged the thick power cable in and stood up to examine the complicated control panel. He was John Reese, a badass, ex-government assassin. He could figure out a simple appliance.

He pressed three buttons in what he thought was the correct order and waited expectantly. There was a slight whirring from the depths of the huge contraption and then three angry beeps.

“Let me try.” Fusco pushed past him. “I may not have fancy computer skills like coco puffs, but I've been fighting with home appliances my whole life.”

Reese stepped aside. “Be my guest.”

He moved back to where Dani was. She looked up at him and mouthed ‘coco puffs?’ in confusion. He didn't bother trying to explain; if she stuck around long enough she'd figure it out.

“There we go.” Fusco stepped back as the AC unit roared to life. “Had to let it know who was in charge.”

“Not Reese, apparently,” Zoe called from just outside the car.

Reese had been surprised she'd stayed this long since she usually only popped by for short visits. Even more surprising was that she'd volunteered to help insulate the subway car windows to keep the cold in.

“What do you guys actually _do_?” Dani asked. “Because so far today you've broken into a building, tased an innocent man, stolen a bunch of air conditioners, and failed at wiring.”

Dani had made them rent a van for the stolen units rather than steal one. It had been a mildly horrifying process that involved talking to people, smiling, and waiting patiently. And now he had to return the van later.

“We help people,” Reese said. “But it's been a slow day for that. Today was about taking care of the Machine.” Once they finished sealing up the subway car, the new AC units should at least help with all the heat the machines were putting out.

“And this Samaritan you keep mentioning? The bad computer?”

“Destroying Samaritan is one of our main objectives, yes. Because destroying it _will_ help people.” He tried not to think about the facility he and Shaw had shut down. He wasn't naive enough to believe it had been the only one.

“But what has it actually done that's so different from your machine?” Dani looked up at the blank monitors.

“Tell her about the stock exchange,” Zoe called. She hurried across the platform towards Root's room of all places. What in the world did she want in there?

“The stock exchange?”

“Yeah, uh, Samaritan crashed the stock market a little while back. We stopped it.”

Fusco groaned. “You suck at telling stories, partner.” He sat down on the subway seats. “So Samaritan and its team of thugs decided to crash the stock market both as a power play and to try and trap all of us. Our AI made some sort of fancy digital counter measure that we had to deploy in the basement of the exchange building. We had no way of knowing at the time, but the whole building was crawling with agents waiting for us…

Reese listened with a slight smile as Fusco recounted the story. It sounded way cooler the way he told it. Reese mostly remembered being tense and worried and then….

“So we're completely pinned down with no way to move and right when we're all getting ready to cash in our chips, Shaw appears out of nowhere, blasts an entire hallway full of agents down and single-handedly gets us into the elevator.”

That had been pretty cool, Reese reflected. He tended to try and avoid thinking about that day too much.

Zoe had returned and was listening from the doorway.

“...then Shaw runs out there to hit the button and at first it seems like we've got her covered, but then one of Samaritan’s top agents appears out of nowhere and shoots her. Twice.”

He was certainly holding Dani’s attention now.

“But you can't keep Shaw down. She hit the damn button, stood back up, got shot again, and still made it back with a little help from wonder boy over there.”

“She got shot three times and walked out of there?” Dani sounded torn between admiration and disbelief.

Zoe stepped forward and handed her something small that made a clinking noise. Reese leaned over to get a look and recognized the little bottle with the metal bullet slugs that Root had claimed when he'd brought it by the townhouse. How had Zoe known where it was?

Dani turned it around in her fingers. “How'd she survive that?”

“Got her to a doctor in time,” Reese said quickly.

He didn't think the stuff that happened next was something to tell Dani yet. He knew he'd never forget what Root's blood-smeared face had looked like when she'd carried Shaw out. She'd been so cold and distant as she'd ordered Hersh to stop a car for them. Reese was pretty sure Hersh would have scrambled to save Shaw anyway, but even he'd looked a little scared of Root right then.

He only remembered pieces of the car ride that had followed. He recalled Root giving them clear, concise directions in a steady voice that was completely in contrast to how much she was shaking as she held Shaw in the backseat. There’d been so much blood all over both of them and….

“The thing is,” Zoe said, interrupting his thoughts, “none of them had to be there that day. No one forced them to go and they weren't being personally threatened. The market crash caused a huge amount of damage in just the short time it happened over. If they hadn't stopped Samaritan then it could have been much worse.”

Zoe pointed at the bottle. “You asked earlier about Shaw being in charge? A leader should represent what their team stands for, and what you're holding is proof of what Shaw stands for. She took three bullets to protect both her mission and her team and she wouldn't hesitate to do it again. Nor would any of the others here.”

Reese must have been gawking because Zoe looked amused when she caught his eye.

“I've worked with Shaw pretty closely for awhile now,” she said. “I wouldn't say I know how she thinks, but I think I know what she values.”

Nothing she'd said was exactly news to Reese, but he'd never have been able to explain it quite so eloquently. He hoped Shaw never heard a recording of any of that; he didn't think she'd want people talking about the stuff she did like that. Even if it was all true. Probably _especially_ because it was all true.

Dani carefully handed the bottle back to Zoe.

“Think I should go home for the night,” she said at last.

There were a couple awkward goodbyes before she departed from the subway and left the three of them alone.

“She'll be back,” Fusco said.

Zoe nodded in agreement. “Nice story-telling, Lionel.”

“Hey, you did pretty good yourself at the end there.”

Reese's weird, possibly-a-dream day had one last twist for him in the form of witnessing Zoe Morgan and Lionel Fusco fist bump.

 

* * *

 

Root didn't even volunteer to drive the next morning. Shaw had looked ready to argue about it the entire way across the hotel parking lot, trudging through the deep snow, but Root went around to the passenger's side door without so much as a word.

Shaw narrowed her eyes in suspicion as they settled into their seats, but Root only raised an eyebrow at her. There was a very thin line, she'd realized, between the part of Shaw that got mad when offered help or comfort and the part of her that maybe kinda liked it (from Root anyway). Root had settled on a strategy of letting Shaw sort out which side of that line she stood on for specific things and following her lead.

“How far is this place?” Shaw asked as their SUV bumped its way through the snow.

“About two hours from here. It's a bit off the beaten path, though, so it might take a little longer with the snowfall.”

They'd woken up to a world wrapped in icy white snow drifts and the sky still blanketed in dull grey clouds. The weather forecast had predicted more snow later in the day, though nowhere near as much.

Shaw had gone through half a box of tissues before they'd gotten out the door and had the rest shoved on top of the drink holders between their seats. Root thought she'd seen her take something or another out of the bag of drugs she'd brought her, and she looked a little better than when she'd first woken up.

“How're we going to fit all of these nerds in this car?” Shaw asked.

Root glanced back at the rest of the SUV. They could fit three people in the back, maybe four in an emergency. The trunk wasn't separate from the main part of the car and only had their very small travel bags in it so it could hold maybe two more. That would account for all five of her original team plus Khan. It could work, but it wouldn't be pleasant.

“I think I'm going to preemptively call shotgun,” she decided.

“Next time tell the Machine to rent a van. Preferably something like a uhaul so we can lock all the passengers in the back and not have to see or hear them.”

“It does seem odd that She'd have me acquire a car that wasn't big enough.” Root wished the Machine didn't have to stay so silent now. It probably wasn't even necessary since none of the measures they'd put in place to hide Her from Samaritan had changed, but after the close call She was being cautious.

“Maybe She was too busy planning out parking lot quickies and forgot about the actual mission.”

“So for the next trip you want a slower vehicle and less sex? I'm sure She can accommodate that.”

“I'm sure I could accommodate spilling mountain dew in her servers.”

The friendly bickering kept them occupied until they were almost at their destination.

“You weren't kidding about this being off the beaten path,” Shaw said as the SUV plowed along what wasn't so much a road as a suggestion of a path through the trees.

“Last time I was here there wasn't as much snow.” She didn't remember a lot about that trip. She'd powered through it with as little sleep as possible and when she'd gotten back John had been in the hospital. Everything was kind of a giant blur.

“There are six people living in that?” Shaw had spotted the cabin up ahead.

“Appearances can be deceiving. There's a much larger structure underneath.”

There was also another SUV parked outside that Root didn't remember from last time. The shitty old car that had been there was currently buried under a pile of snow, but the SUV had been cleaned off sometime after the blizzard.

“No tire tracks on the way in and the only footprints are between the house and the car,” Shaw said as she parked. “No one came in after the blizzard.”

“If Samaritan had found them, She’d have told me.” Root pushed the door open and stepped down into the snow. She knew there were cameras mounted around the area so both the inhabitants and the Machine could get a good look at anyone showing up. She slogged through the snow after Shaw towards the front door.

They both pulled their guns out when the door burst open and several people came flying out. Root managed to lower her gun as one of the newcomers crashed into her and wrapped their arms around her in what was probably supposed to be a friendly greeting. It was the youngest of the group of programmers she'd recruited, a girl named Angela who Root wasn't sure was even old enough to drink yet.

She looked over at Shaw, who'd lowered her gun a little and seemed perplexed by the whole situation. Root didn't know how to wordlessly convey to Shaw ‘please remove this human from me but without too much violence’, so she settled for awkwardly patting Angela on the back and attempting to extricate herself from the bear hug.

Fortunately none of the others tried to hug her, though Daizo was so excited he was almost bouncing.

“We got a message that we were getting moved today, but we didn't know you'd be here,” Daniel Casey said from the doorway.

“Let's get inside before we discuss this,” Shaw suggested. She still had her gun out, but it was held loosely at her side now.

“Right, of course. Come on in.” Daniel stepped back to let everyone in.

“That happen a lot?” Shaw asked quietly as they moved towards the door. “Because if one of them tries to hug me, I _will_ shoot them.” She glanced sideways at Root. “Thought that'd be your kind of thing, though.”

“I'm not a huge fan of people touching me,” Root said equally quietly. “Though I _am_ a huge fan of _you_ touching me.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Try not to traumatize your geek squad.”

They didn't stay in the cramped living room of the cabin for long, but instead all headed down a flight of stairs into a much larger area. The basement of the cabin stretched underground quite a ways and had enough small rooms for all the inhabitants with a few left over. The main room was the most important part though and contained a large number of computer work stations. Whatever the Machine was having them work on, it all happened here.

Sulaiman Khan was at one of the computers and didn't even bother to greet them when they entered, too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

“We're pretty much ready to get out of here whenever,” Daniel said, “but Khan is doing a last minute check on the code we're supposed to give you.”

“You've got something for me?” The Machine hadn't mentioned that to Root.

“Uh, for both of you actually.” Daniel gestured nervously at Shaw.

“I know jack shit about this stuff,” Shaw said waving an arm to indicate the computers and everyone else in the room.

That wasn't completely true, Root knew, but she couldn't think why the Machine would specify both of them.

“I just follow orders,” Daniel said helplessly.

Everyone scattered to do any last minute packing and grab their belongings. Root leaned against a wall and watched from a distance as Khan poured over the contents of his screen.

“Any idea what this code is?” Shaw asked as she joined Root against the wall.

“Not a clue.” She was tempted to go over and shove Khan out of the way so she could see for herself.

Shaw sneezed violently and drew Root's attention back to her.

“You feeling any better?” she asked cautiously.

“I'm fine.”

There was just a hint of petulance there.

“Obviously. I just thought it might be annoying.”

Shaw thought that over for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, annoying.” She looked away, across the room. “More annoying than it was yesterday, but could be worse.”

“We're staying in another hotel tonight after we drop off the team. And this time we can sleep in.” Normally this would be where she threw in some light, casual touch, but there were a lot of people Shaw considered strangers around so she held off.

“Any updates from your boss?” Shaw asked.

“Not updates, no. She tries to check in every few hours, play a note or two, let me know She's around.”

“Why do you…” Shaw broke off and shook her head. “Nevermind.”

Well, there was no way Root was going to let _that_ go.

“Why do I what?”

Shaw shook her head again. “I said nevermind.”

“Sameen.” She poked her in the side. “Unless you want to have me pestering you all the way back to New York….”

Shaw muttered something under her breath that Root thought might have been about locking her in the trunk.

“The Machine can see all of us pretty much all the time, right? And hear us. But why do…. I mean, I can pretend that I'm alone at least, I don't think about her watching me constantly, and you...sometimes you stay in the subway to have space but the Machine is always there in your ear.”

It was practically a speech for Shaw even if it was a bit jumbled. Root thought she understood though.

“Why do I like having Her talk to me all the time?” she asked.

“Yes.” Shaw looked relieved. “She's not the worst to talk to by a long shot. A bit of a know-it-all and kind of nerdy…”

“Sounds like your type.”

“Whatever. I told you to forget it.”

Root thought about it for a few seconds. She'd spent most of her life alone, always on the run or looking for more work, moving fast enough to stay ahead of consequences. She hadn't minded it much at the time, didn't have a lot of use for people, and the quiet broken only by the clicks of her keyboard had been easy, become familiar. Having Her there all the time had been...different.

“I don't think I ever told you this, but She first started speaking to me when I was in that hospital.”

“Kind of figured,” Shaw said, and Root felt a little thrill run through her that Shaw had thought about it at all.

“It's easy to lose track of things in a place like that. The outside world feels a million miles away...which I guess might be the point. But She kept me connected to everything.”

It had been more than that though. Before the phone on the wall had rung, the hospital had seemed surreal, out of sync with the world. It had felt like she’d been watching herself wander through someone else's dream, only nebulously attached to the world.

The Machine’s voice had been a wake-up call, cutting through the haze, returning life to her body. It had still been difficult after that, staying centered in her own head, especially with all the drugs they'd been pumping into her system.

And she didn't like to remember her time in solitary, cut off from Her.

She became aware that Shaw was watching her, waiting for her to sort through things enough to continue. She’d recently noticed Shaw waiting like that from time to time and wondered how long she'd been doing it without Root noticing. Wondered what it meant that Shaw knew her well enough to know when to wait. And what it meant that she chose to do so.

She gathered her thoughts.

“She still does that sometimes. Even when She's not saying anything directly, She's there, maybe playing music or letting me know what time it is. Almost like white noise. Without Her now everything is too quiet, disconnected.”

Shaw frowned at the floor, processing all of that perhaps.

“You’re pretty good at that, too,” Root added hastily. “Being there without it feeling intrusive. It's just that sometimes…”

“...you need physical space.” Shaw nodded. “I do, too, sometimes. I get that part. The feeling disconnected part, not as much. Not that way.”

“I'm not sure how to explain it.” She sifted through ideas in her head, but none felt quite right. She couldn't imagine Shaw feeling out of sync with the world, not when she was so firmly entrenched in each moment of her life. Root didn't want to think about what it would take to rattle Shaw's grip on her reality.

Shaw shook her head.

“No, I think I get it even if I don't _get_ it.”

Root risked a genuine smile and while Shaw didn't return it she did hold eye contact, steady and serious.

The moment ended when Daniel crossed the room towards them.

“We're ready to head out now.” He sounded apologetic, as if he suspected he'd cut into something. “Uh, we got instructions on where to get a car the other day, you probably saw it outside. I think one of you is supposed to drive it?”

“Split the passengers up between the two?” Root directed the question to Shaw. “I'll follow your car.”

“Just tell me where I'm headed.” Shaw pushed off the wall. “Let's get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

Somehow Shaw had let herself end up in the same car as Root's biggest fan. She hadn't bothered to learn the kid's name and mostly just tried to tune out her endless outpouring of questions. All about Root.

She wondered how mad Root would be if she ‘misplaced’ one of her little pets.

Daniel Casey had also ended up in her SUV for which she was oddly grateful. He was the closest to being tolerable of the bunch, though that wasn't saying much. All four of the others had crammed into Root's car, and she suspected both her passengers would be squished in there as well if it had been an option.

Maybe she should have been insulted, but hey, the less annoying nerds in her car, the better.

It had been interesting to watch Root interact with them all; she wasn't half-bad at being in charge of a group (or ordering them around anyway), if only for very short periods of time, and all of them (even Khan, who hadn't spent nearly as much time with her as the others) had been very deferential to her.

“She was kind of a legend, you know,” Shaw’s more annoying passenger was saying. She'd given up on fishing for details and was now regaling Shaw with Root's unabridged greatest hits. “No one thought she was real. More like a hoax or an entire group pretending to be one person. Some people thought she was a former government spook.”

The former government spook driving the car snorted at the idea of Root taking orders from anyone who wasn't an obnoxious sentient computer.

“A creep, maybe, but not a spook.”

The girl in the passenger's seat (Andrea? Alice? Maybe?) gaped at her, confused, but regained her equilibrium with irritating quickness. “Of course everyone also thought she was a dude. I didn't, though.”

Shaw met Daniel's eyes in the rearview mirror and whatever he saw there made him lean forward.

“Angela, let Ms. Shaw concentrate on the road, okay?”

Ms. Shaw? What in the world had Root told them about her that would make pet-nerd-number-one refer to her as Ms.?

The road they were on was straight and empty and only required any concentration at all because it was so icy. But if it made the girl shut up, Shaw wasn't going to argue the point.

She glanced in the mirror again to check on the other car. She could make out Root's form in the driver's seat and Daizo next to her, but not much else. They'd been on the road for almost four hours now, the directions Root had given her taking them along nearly empty roads through the middle of nowhere. Four hours of her life she was never getting back.

Daniel's attempt to silence Angela only lasted another fifteen minutes.

“She seems different now,” Angela said, and Shaw knew from the way the last four hours had gone that she meant Root.

“Different how?” she asked despite herself. She didn't think Root looked any different (her hair was longer maybe?) and as for the rest, well, Root was never a fixed point that could be mapped. She was unpredictable and quixotic. How did you measure change with those parameters? Shaw supposed she _was_ a little less prone to walking into bullets, but that was different, and probably not what Angela had meant.

“I don't know. More and less of what she was before?”

If that was the sort of enlightening insight that emotions gave people then Shaw would pass.

“She was always pretty closed off from us,” Daniel piped up from the back seat. “But I think I know what Angela means. Root's kinda..harder and softer at the same time?” He didn't sound completely sure.

“Yeah, I have no clue what that means.” Shaw regretted pursuing the topic. Was she supposed to have noticed whatever this change was? Had she missed something?

“She looked really tired, too,” Angela said, half-turned to talk to Daniel.

“Definitely. But none of us have been getting much sleep either.”

“Both of you knock it off. This is now a conversation-free car.” Worrying about Root's sleep habits was _her_ job.

Angela, who apparently had the self-preservation instincts of a dead lemming, started saying something else, but Shaw had stopped listening. There was a van waiting at the light at the crossroad up ahead on the left side. It was the only other vehicle she'd seen for hours (not counting Root's car obviously). There was nothing wrong with it per se; the light was red for the cross street so it made sense that it was stopped even though there was no traffic and really nothing at all for miles. Something felt off though.

She'd only just entered the intersection when the van roared to life, barreling forward. And suddenly it was like those moments in the stock exchange where everything had felt like it was underwater, slow. She had all the time in the world to think through the situation. Accelerating would put her out of immediate danger, and the van would either hit the back of her car or, more likely, Root's car. Slowing down would mean the van hit her door head-on. Neither sounded great.

She went with option three and slammed the brakes on as hard as she could. Root's car crashed into the back of hers almost the same time the van plowed into the front of her car by the engine.

The car spun out on the ice and ended up sideways in the road, too broad to flip easily. She had a few seconds of disorientation before she pulled her gun out and looked out the window. People were climbing out of the van and they were armed.

“Stay down and shut up,” she told her passengers, both of whom were still recovering.

She slid out of the car, already firing. The SUVs were their only cover out here and they were full of civilians. She needed to put an end to this quickly. She moved around the right side of the van, one man down and another quickly following him. The third tried to jump her by springing out the van's side-door, but she put a stop to that by grabbing him by his collar, and depositing him face-first in the snow. When he tried to get up she kicked him in the side of the head hard enough that she knew he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

A faint noise behind her made her spin around, dodging to the side as she turned. Something burned across her upper arm even as she took out the kneecaps of the guy trying to sneak up on her.

Root appeared out of nowhere to grab the fallen man by his shirt and wrench him to his feet, unaffected by his yelp of pain when his useless legs tried to take his weight. She slammed him into the side of the van several times and then punched him in the face for good measure.

“Uh, Root, he's already down.” What in the world.

Root released her captive and let him collapse back to the ground, moaning in pain. When she turned back to Shaw her face was twisted with rage, eyes wild with fear and fury. Like a cornered animal, Shaw thought.

It only lasted a second before Root was grinning at her the way she normally did during missions, confident and slightly sadistic.

“That all of them?” Shaw scanned the area, making sure they were actually safe.

“Yeah there was another guy on that side, but I dealt with him.”

“Samaritan?”

Root nodded and moved over to stand next to her. “No cameras out here so She didn't see them.”

“How'd they find us then?”

“Blind luck, I think. She was worried they'd figured out the others were in this area so they've been canvassing practically the whole state. Two SUVs traveling together in the middle of nowhere probably seemed suspicious.”

As Shaw put her gun away, the pain in her arm she'd almost forgotten flared to life.

“Shit.” She slid her arm out of her coat so she could get a better look. It wasn't too bad, even if it was bleeding a bunch. Only a nasty graze. She could use the small first aid kit in her bag until she could get better supplies.

Root made a very slight noise and Shaw looked up to find her face ashen.

“It's a graze,” she said, unsure why Root was staring at her like that. “Not a big deal.”

“Right. Not a big deal,” Root echoed. Her face slid back into its easy confidence, but somehow that was worse.

“Let's get somewhere safer,” Shaw decided.

There'd be time to deal with whatever this was after they dropped off the others.

“Yes, let's.”

 

* * *

 

“This is more like it,” Shaw said as she looked around the hotel room.

Root’s lips twitched into a tired smile as she watched her stalk around the large suite they'd gotten a free upgrade to.

“We have it all day tomorrow, too, so we can sleep in extra late.” That had been her idea and not the Machine's; she could still get her work done here and Shaw could try and sleep off her cold.

Shaw dumped her bag on the bed and started pawing through it, resulting in clunking noises that sounded a lot more like firearms than clothing.

“You gonna look at that hard drive tonight?” she asked.

Root had already pulled the little drive out and had been about to reach for her laptop case.

“I thought I might. See what She's had them doing all this time.”

“Where do you think she sent them?”

They'd left her little team at an airfield in the middle of nowhere. There'd been a pilot waiting to take them somewhere and the Machine had broken Her silence just long enough to assure Root that this was the plan.

“Hopefully somewhere they'll be safe until we can finish this.”

She'd felt a little bad that they'd all been so upset to leave her again when all she'd wanted was to be alone with Shaw.

“Is anywhere safe these days?” Shaw had a pile of clothes in her arms. “I'm gonna take a shower.”

Root heard the water turn on in the bathroom while she waited for her computer to recognize the hard drive and idly imagined Shaw's reaction if she went in to join her, unexpected. The idea was a bit tempting.

The contents of the drive drove all other thoughts from her mind and she didn't even realize Shaw had come back into the room until she leaned over her shoulder and her wet hair dripped on her. How much time had passed?

“A drive full of illegible code. What a surprise.” Shaw furrowed her brow as she looked it over. “Though it kinda looks familiar?”

Root was still trying to comprehend _why_ the Machine would have her team work on this, but she cleared her thoughts enough to answer.

“It should. This part is written in the same language Samaritan is. It's what I've been working with for months now.” And they'd gotten the code she'd recently stolen from Samaritan from the looks of it. “Parts of it anyway.”

“What about the other parts?”

“They're in the Machine’s language.”

Shaw looped her foot around one of the chairs and pulled it over so she could sit down and still see the screen.

“Okay so what's the point in writing something in both?”

“It's...not exactly like that. A good part of what I've been working on is...call it a translation layer. A binding between their languages.”

“So they can communicate? Can't they just learn each other's languages?”

“No, not really. Both Harold and Claypool wrote their own languages to make their AIs. They're very different languages in many ways though both something like...hmmm...maybe halfway between Assembly and C? There’re certain logical assumptions that one AI could make about the other, but no guarantees.”

“You're telling me you learned two unknown programming languages and figured out how to translate one to the other?”

Root shrugged. “It wasn't that hard.” She'd never had much trouble picking up programming languages, and while neither AI language had any formal documentation, the Machine was the ultimate source for Her own. Samaritan’s had been trickier, but the Machine had once again helped by sending her some of Claypool’s other projects so she could get a feel for how he thought.

Shaw leaned over to snag the plastic drug store bag she'd brought into the room with her and pulled out some supplementary first aid supplies.

“What is it she wants to say to Samaritan?”

Root watched her disinfect and bandage the graze on her arm. She'd overreacted earlier, she knew, but she'd seen the gun firing at Shaw and then the blood…. Would she ever be able to erase the stock exchange from her mind?

“Root?” Shaw had an eyebrow raised at her.

“Oh, uh, She doesn't want to say anything to Samaritan--that's not the point of this code. It's a language binding that lets Her understand and run Samaritan’s code.”

She gestured at her screen.

“The backdoor we originally put in Samaritan will be Her way in. Sort of. And once She has access She'll be able to see what it's doing and fight it by turning its own code against it.”

“Can it fight back? Since it won't be able to understand her code, right?”

Shaw might downplay her grasp of ‘nerd stuff’ from time to time, but Root loved these moments where she didn't pretend not to understand. Shaw’s acumen was every bit as impressive (and hot) as her combat abilities, and every time Shaw switched into doctor-mode Root was blown away all over again.

“It can, but She'll be able to see what it's doing much easier than it can see what She's doing. She can use its code against it, but all it can do is blindly attack. The difference between poisoning someone and throwing a brick at them, I suppose.”

Shaw’s sniffling had come back and she got up to get a tissue box from her bag, grumbling.

“What's different about what your guys worked on then?” she asked as she dropped back into her chair.

“It's...She didn't want me adding some of Samaritan’s more...aggressive functionality to the translation. But She had them do it on the side. And add some extra stuff, too, looks like. I think She doesn't have access to this code, or purposefully hasn't allowed Herself access.”

She saw comprehension click in Shaw's eyes. “She won't let herself use this unless we choose to give her access.”

Root nodded. “She trusts us to make that call.”

Shaw didn't say anything for a few minutes, staring at the laptop with a slight frown. Finally she reached forward to poke around at the computer herself. Root tensed (she hated people touching her computers), but she didn't say anything. The reaction was only an instinct after all. She trusted Shaw.

“There's a lot of code on this drive just going by file size, but it looks like a fraction of what you've written this last year. You really wrote that much more than an entire team of nerds?”

Root smirked a little. “Well, quality over quantity, sweetie, but I've got them beaten on both counts.”

Shaw snorted and leaned back. “I was gonna compliment your skills but you beat me to it. Egomaniac.”

She got up and stretched, Root watching appreciatively.

“I'm passing out. You gonna be up awhile?”

Root glanced back at her laptop and nodded. They hadn't done a _bad_ job, but there was room for optimization. A lot of room.

“Well, have fun with that.” Shaw stopped halfway across the floor. “And about earlier…”

Root froze, no doubt in her mind what Shaw was talking about. How she'd freaked out over a tiny graze.

Shaw's face contorted as she visibly struggled to pick the right words. “Just, uh, wake me up if you have any dreams tonight. Okay?”

Root relaxed. “I will.”

The answer must have satisfied Shaw because she went to bed without another word. Root turned all the lights out and worked by the glow of her screen late into the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot longer than it needed to be but I didn't have the heart to cut any of the sections. Sorry. Also writing that many characters in one room at the same time was challenging. Six humans, an AI, and a dog.
> 
> I have a kinda one-shot/bonus chapter written to follow this...only about 2k words. It's mostly about math and I really have no clue if it's actually interesting but it was one of those things where I had an idea and had to write it. That'll be up in a few days.
> 
> Proper cooling and ventilation of server rooms is serious business. I got a blister once from touching a server blade in an improperly-cooled room in the middle of the summer. Terrible for the computers.
> 
> Oh, one last thing. I'm considering going back and adding chapter names to some or all chapters...nothing profound, more so it's easier to find specific parts. Should I name all chapters? Some chapters? None? Opinions and thoughts welcome.
> 
>  
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [Chitty Chitty Bang Bang](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/26955234) rated E. yes it is the car sex scene, and yes I think the title is hilarious.
> 
>  
> 
> [Snow Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/33105507) rated G. Short little fluff scene that takes place right after this chapter.


	36. Strange Attractors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this days ago but I ended up gutting and rewriting the entire middle part 12 times. Short chapter, was meant to be a bonus/one-shot/side story but i ended up spending a ridiculous amount of time on it.
> 
> This chapter might not be everyone's cup of tea...there's a lot of stuff relating to math, though I tried to keep it accessible and use a bunch of analogies (this was the cause of the rewriting actually). Completely skippable if you're not feeling it.
> 
> I tried really damn hard to fact check all the bits I wasn't completely sure about. I hope I was successful.

“Have you ever gotten the Machine to tell you about other possibilities?” Shaw asked from the kitchen. “You know, how things might have turned out if one of us had made a different decision somewhere along the way?”

It was the sort of question she'd avoided before; stuff like that would only lead to double-guessing herself, might slow her down when she needed to react faster than thinking things through allowed.

Root didn't answer and Shaw popped her head into the living room to see if she'd fallen asleep again. After they'd gotten back from their last mission, Root had inevitably succumbed to the obnoxious cold that had plagued Shaw for days. She'd expected Root to be whiny and demanding when sick, but instead she'd curled up in a miserable heap on the couch under a pile of blankets and suffered in relative silence.

Root wasn't asleep when she checked, but staring into space. Shaw couldn't tell if she was thinking about her answer or had gone off inside her own head again and failed to hear the question at all. Root did that a lot lately.

“I’ve asked,” she said finally, blinking back to the present. “Once or twice, I’ve asked. Usually She won't say.”

Shaw ducked back into the kitchen to get the soup off the stove and dump some of it into a bowl. Just because _she_ outright refused sick-people-food during her cold didn't mean Root could get away with it.

“She's told you an alternative before though?”

She carried the bowl into the living room and thrust it at Root, glaring until she sat up and un-burrowed enough from her blanket cocoon to take it. Root gave a sad little sigh as she looked at the soup but Shaw sat down in the chair across the coffee table from the couch and watched her sternly.

“Hmm, only once. When I asked Her what would have happened if I hadn't come looking for Her.”

“And?” It wasn't quite the difference she'd wanted to ask about, but she was still curious.

“She said that the exact details were, of course, impossible to predict for anything more than a short period of time, but She suspected I'd have continued on much the same as I always had and eventually it would have gotten me killed.” Root didn't sound the least bit upset by the prediction, and that, more than anything, made Shaw think the Machine was probably correct.

“And what about the rest of us? What would that have changed for us?”

Root delayed her answer by drinking some of the soup. She made a small noise of surprise that both pleased and irritated Shaw. Of course it tasted good; she'd made it.

“She wouldn't say.”

Shaw let Root finish the rest of her soup in silence before she pressed any further.

“What other things did you ask her about?” She wasn't quite sure why she was so curious about this lately. Maybe something to do with the peculiar place her life had ended up: having someone (especially someone who'd annoyed the fuck out of her when they'd met) living in her apartment, woven so tightly into her life.

“The obvious things, I suppose. If She hadn't contacted me in the hospital. If Finch had let me out when I'd asked him to. The stock exchange, of course.”

“You’d have died.” Shaw didn't need an all-knowing AI for that one.

Root grimaced. “Probably.” She said it like it might have been worth it.

Shaw rolled her eyes, got up, and moved to the couch to sit next to the pile of blankets Root was ensconced in.

“There's an infinite number of possibilities though, right? An infinite number of ways things could have gone differently at any point?”

Root's eyes lit up with more life than Shaw had seen in them since she'd started sneezing the other day. She wondered if she was going to regret her question.

“That's probably true, but…” Root searched the ceiling for inspiration. “Do you know what an attractor is?”

The term sounded familiar, probably from a college class she didn't fully remember.

“Maybe? Let's say I don't though.”

Root squirmed upright more, the blankets sliding down to her waist. She was wearing another one of those damn nerd shirts, a new one. It said ‘Schrödinger's Emoticon’ on it and had a somewhat odd ascii smiley face on it that looked like: **:):**

Shaw didn't feel her normal stab of self-recrimination for actually getting the pun. She didn't think she'd ever seen a more Root shirt, and somehow that made it okay. Like maybe it was less of an attempt to annoy her and more of a statement.

“Attractors are part of a field of mathematics...” Root started and Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Oh, good. Math. That's exactly where I'd hoped this was heading.”

She didn't have anything against math; she'd needed a damn good bit of it in college, but she didn't have Root's unrelenting fascination with it. It was a tool, not a passion.

Root grinned and continued, unfazed.

“There are these things called dynamical systems that deal with functions describing the location of a point in space over time.”

And yes, there was the regret setting in. But Root was sick and pathetic and she fucking loved talking about math for some damn reason so Shaw didn't say anything. If they'd been the type of people who celebrated holidays, this would have counted as Root's present for every holiday for the entire year.

“Like...imagine a swinging pendulum. The location of the tip of the pendulum at any given time is a point in space. That function describing it could be an equation that took the current position of the pendulum as an input and calculated its next position based on the parameters of the system...things like acceleration due to gravity, air drag, pendulum weight.”

“A bunch of locations of a point moving through space. So...coordinates.” Shaw shook her head. Couldn't Root have just said that? “Cartesian coordinates, right?”

“That may be the sexiest thing you've ever said to me, Sameen.” Root's eyes looked a bit glazed over. “Say something about Euclidean space next.”

“Oh god.”

Root was practically beaming and really Shaw should have known this was the way to cheer her up.

“So you've got a point moving through space over time. What's that got to do with anything?”

Root snapped back to the topic. “Imagine the point in space represents you at any specific moment in your life. The movement of the point over time is your path through life.”

“My life is a series of coordinates? Like right now is one location of the pendulum tip and yesterday was a different location and my ‘path’ through life is a line connecting them all in order?”

“You can break it down into even smaller increments if you want, but yes.”

Shaw wasn't sure what all this was supposed to prove, but she was interested now.

“What were those things you mentioned then? Attractors?”

Root nodded.

“An attractor is a set of numbers which a system evolves towards.” She glanced at Shaw and continued quickly. “In the case of the pendulum, the attractor is the coordinates of its rest state. In other words, no matter where you start swinging the pendulum from, over time it will slow down, lose momentum, and then be perfectly still.”

“Okay, so how does any of this tie into my question about infinite possible outcomes?” As the words left her mouth she figured it out. “Oh, you're saying that in some cases, even when the starting point is different everything moves towards an inevitable conclusion.”

“Exactly, though it doesn't have to be a single point. It could be a range of points, like a line or a shape.”

“And you think our lives are moving towards some fixed set of possibilities?”

“Maybe, maybe not. That's not something we have the means to determine. There are too many variables affecting our lives at any given moment for it to be feasible to calculate. Really it's more of a thought experiment than anything.”

Shaw thought back to that weird feeling she'd had in the elevator at the stock exchange, the sudden certainty that they'd been headed towards that moment or one like it all along.

“Okay, I think I can buy all that. Sort of. But shouldn't the Machine be able to figure out stuff way easier then? Just find the point, or line, or attractor thing that all our choices are leading to?”

Root shuffled around so she was leaning back on one arm of the couch and could poke her feet out from the blankets to rest on Shaw's lap. Shaw narrowed her eyes at the intrusion as Root wiggled her toes (which at some point had gotten a coat of black nail polish) and gave a contented sigh that was ruined slightly by a coughing fit.

“There's a special type of system,” Root said after she'd recovered, “where the behavior of the system depends heavily on initial conditions. A small change in the starting point will lead to vastly different outcomes. The attractor of a system like that is a bit unusual.”

This was starting to sound a lot like that talk Shaw’d had with the Machine about a similar topic. Maybe she should have expected that.

“You're talking about chaos theory. Mathematical chaos. Changing something small leads to very different outcomes.”

“Right. The thing with chaos theory is there are patterns to these systems. They're unpredictable, but not random. The attractor I was mentioning is called a strange attractor. A shape drawn by chaos. If you were to follow two different points through a system with a chaotic strange attractor those points could both be anywhere on the attractor in relation to each other at any given time.”

She leaned over towards the table to pick up the empty soup bowl and rested it on her stomach.

“Let's say the rim of this bowl is a strange attractor. If you choose two starting points that are just a fraction of an inch off from each other--” She tapped a spot on the rim of the bowl and then put a second finger next to it to represent the second starting point. “--at any point in time in the future each point could arbitrarily be anywhere on the attractor in relation to the other point.”

She moved her fingers apart so they were as stretched out as they could be along the rim. “They could be very far--” She slid one finger back around next to the other. “--or very close. There's no way to tell. But since all the different points gravitate towards the attractor it gives us some basic knowledge about where the points could be. The Machine can use that knowledge to make educated guesses, though She generally won't for anything other than the fairly immediate future.”

“So if the starting points were--” Shaw tried to think of something easy to conceptualize. “--different jobs a person might take...”

“I mean that's a terrible example because different jobs are actually very different starting conditions. It would have to be a much smaller difference to prove sensitivity to initial conditions. Potentially anyway. I guess it depends on the size of the system, which in this case…”

“Root...just work with me here, okay?”

Root sighed.

“Fine. Let's just ignore the actual start condition for a moment and say in one life path you end up right here, and in another you get to finish your residency without the interference of some meddlesome, self-righteous…”

“Root…”

Root stopped and looked at her uncertainly. It...wasn't the greatest topic to begin with for Shaw, and Root's obvious anger on her behalf made her uneasy. But now the weird silence was worse so she shook her head.

“Never mind, keep going.”

Root watched her for a couple seconds too long and Shaw had to nudge her leg a bit forcefully to get her to continue.

“Uhm, so in one timeline you join the Marines and eventually end up right where you are now. In the other, you end up working in a hospital.”

“And the similarity is being stuck with people trying to cough up a lung?”

Root smiled a little. “Well, no, but you're not completely wrong. I rather think you'd always end up helping people in some way. Protecting them.”

Shaw shifted uncomfortably. “I guess.”

“Joining the marines led you to a very different place than being a doctor would have, but there _is_ an underlying pattern there. In one path you could be working in a hospital and in this one you're trying to stop the AI apocalypse. There’s no way to look at your current life and accurately predict where you'd be in that other life, but in both cases you're still protecting people. That's one attractor of your life paths. A pattern in the chaos.”

Root sat up again, pulling her feet back and shifting over until she was closer to Shaw. Her breath smelled faintly of cough syrup and Shaw wondered if some of this wasn't the Nyquil talking.

“Even though different starting points travel different paths, they never leave the attractor. They map out a shape.” She ran her finger all the way around the rim of the bowl to demonstrate. Then she exchanged the bowl for her phone from the table and tapped away at it for a few seconds before holding it up.

There was a picture on the screen that looked like an ethereal, warped infinity symbol. Or like two ovals angled towards each other and touching near the bottom. Or like a…. Shaw had a suspicion.

“Butterfly. The butterfly effect.”

Root beamed. “This is the Lorenz attractor, maybe the most famous strange attractor. The man who discovered it also came up with the term ‘butterfly effect’. It's a shape formed by chaos.”

“It's cool, I guess.”

Root nodded, serious. “It's very cool.”

What a fuckin’ nerd.

Shaw looked a little closer at the image; the entire shape was made from a single line, spiraling around and around to form one wing and then suddenly veering off to form the other wing and make more spirals there. It wove back and forth on itself, unpredictable at any one moment and yet somehow still forming a cohesive whole. Strange but compelling.

She thought that maybe if all of Root's possibilities were mapped out in space they might look something like that. Though damned if she knew what any of Root's attractors actually represented.

And what shapes would all her own possible life paths draw in the chaos? The picture Root had shown her _was_ kinda cool (though she'd never give Root the satisfaction of hearing her admit that), but it wasn't her.

“What I'm saying,” Root continued, “is that maybe even if all the possible paths of the entirety of reality are unpredictable and chaotic, they stay within the same system, evolve towards the same strange attractors. That maybe there’re underlying patterns in that chaos, even if we can't see them. And even the worlds where none of this ever happened, where we never even met, trace patterns on the same shape. I think that's reassuring, don't you?”

Shaw didn't really think she’d call it reassuring, but it was interesting at least and Root's genuine enthusiasm was infectious.

“It's something to think about anyway,” she allowed.

“It's completely theoretical, of course,” Root said, leaning in closer. “The Machine _might_ have told me to stop romanticizing unsubstantiated conjectures and willfully misinterpreting mathematical theories. But strange attractors _are_ very fitting for our current circumstances.”

“Oh, yeah? How so?”

“Because I'm strangely attracted to y…”

Shaw slapped her hand over Root's mouth before she could finish.

“Do _not_ tell me you spent half an hour talking about math shit just to make a terrible pun,” she hissed. A terrible, _sappy_ pun to add insult to injury.

She felt Root smirk against her palm and released her with a warning glare.

“Un-fucking-believable.” She got up off the couch and stalked into the kitchen to try and reset her brain from the terrible punning she'd just been subjected to.

When she came back out with a beer, Root had curled up back under her blankets, still looking a bit smug. Her self-satisfied smirk vanished when she started coughing again. She made a sad little whining noise, and rubbed at her nose.

“You should go lie down in bed, get some real sleep,” Shaw said, her indignation fading quickly.

“Too tired to move. Carry me?”

Shaw snorted. “In no universe, system, or whatever mathematical bullshit theory will that ever happen.”

“I'll sleep here for now then.”

She passed out a few minutes later with Shaw watching over her from her chair. Once she was sure she was asleep, Shaw got up and smoothed the blankets over her.

“Nerd,” she muttered under her breath.

Root gave a happy sigh in her sleep and Shaw shook her head at the sight of the human math disaster passed out on her couch. She figured that if they really could have ended up in any possible universe in existence then they hadn't done poorly for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the reasons it took me forever to finish this was because I kept getting distracted by the topic and wandering off to write programs that analyzed and mapped solutions for chaotic systems. Totally useless, but a lot of fun.
> 
> I felt a lot of this fit in with some of the stuff Root went into in the day the world went away.
> 
> I've always been of the strong opinion that Shaw is pretty damn tech-savvy and would know a good bit of math from pre-med and med school. Despite a good bit of googling and trying to find someone in my very small social circle who'd know I couldn't figure out if the particular field Root goes on about is something she would have been likely to have learned about. I know a lot of pre-med requires physics and a lot of different medical fields require a ton of math and physics...so maybe? I chose to be vague and imply that she might have learned about this stuff but didn't remember it because she hadn't used it since (I've forgotten...so much from college...so much).
> 
> Also I tried to simplify a bunch of stuff so if you're interested in any of the more technical bits, go look them up and don't rely on my explanations. I was surprised to find out that some of the stuff I thought I'd just made up about attractors and their relation to human behavior are things that are studied in psychology.
> 
> The [Lorenz Attractor](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/71/Lorenz_system_r28_s10_b2-6666.png/1024px-Lorenz_system_r28_s10_b2-6666.png) is a real thing and very cool. 
> 
> No clue when the next chapter will be done. Work is being unnecessarily exciting at the moment and I'm dead tired.
> 
> Also, the wonderful [marina-does-things](https://marina-does-things.tumblr.com) did TWO more pieces of art for this story. Please go check them out: [here](https://marina-does-things.tumblr.com/post/159080565486/just-couldnt-stay-away-from-this-adorable-scene) and [here](https://marina-does-things.tumblr.com/post/159079942141/im-re-reading-sliding-towards-chaos-by).


	37. The Knight Before Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the wedding episode. The season 4 finale in the show took place in May (...though there was way too much snow on the ground in nyc for that to have been May) but mine took place in November so the timelines are off (purposefully). Thus the wedding is a winter wedding. Just...go with it. This is mostly silly.
> 
> Edit: I changed the title to an awful pun, I'm so sorry.

“They're up to something.” Control murmured, peering off down the hallway.

“Ma'am,” was the only safe reply Hersh could manage. What he _wanted_ to say was ‘of course Samaritan is up to something, when have they ever not been?’, but not saying things like that out loud was why he still had a job.

But there must have been some tiny hint of it in his voice because Control turned to look at him.

“I'm not an idiot, Hersh. I know exactly how dangerous they always are. But right now, today, this visit, something specific is going on.”

Greer had been scheduled to visit the ISA this week, but he'd pulled out at the last moment and sent his lackeys instead. Lambert was an unctuous prat, only good for trotting at Greer’s heels (though currently he was only hobbling due to ‘a nasty slip on the ice’) and begging for scraps, but the cold-blooded smile on that woman Rousseau’s face made him want to shoot her. She was going to be trouble one day.

“Did you want me to do anything?” he asked, unsure what more he could do than he already was.

He had some people he trusted keeping a very close eye on both of the Samaritan agents, though in the past Rousseau had given some of his best operatives the slip. His first few encounters with her, while not violent, had weirdly reminded him of his fight with the Machine’s agent, Root, back in the halls of a psychiatric hospital what felt like years ago now. Something about the way she just seemed to _know_ everything before it happened.

Of course that made a lot more sense now.

Control didn’t answer him right away, choosing instead to lead him back into her office and put all their electronics into her lead-lined box (it was actually a new, much larger box than the original one. As her paranoia (justified paranoia) increased, so did the number of things that went in the box) before continuing the conversation.

“I assume you’re having them watched.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

She drummed her fingers on the desk, looking uncomfortable. It wasn’t a look he saw on her often so he knew whatever came next was going to be good.

“Have you heard anything from Sameen Shaw recently?”

He almost blinked. Control wasn’t particularly pleased with their current relationship with the Machine and its agents. She felt they had a little too much leverage over her.

“Not since she filled me in on the outcome of the Dillinger affair.” He’d been a little surprised at how far Shaw had taken that, raiding the facility and shooting the man, but maybe he shouldn’t have been.

“I think it might be worth getting in touch. Discreetly, of course. See if she has any idea what Samaritan might be up to this time.” Control looked like she’d eaten a sour grape.

“Have we heard from the Machine since…?” He let the question trail off. The Machine had gone radio silent for a few days a couple weeks ago.

Control pressed her lips together. “Once or twice. Short messages only. Probably worth asking Shaw about that as well. Though you’d think they’d have the courtesy to inform us if something had happened.”

Hersh sent a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening that Shaw and Control never ended up in a room together again.

“I’ll see if I can get in touch with her,” he promised.

There wasn’t much more to say and he left a few minutes later, keeping even more of an eye out than usual.

He had a phone that had shown up one day, a present from the Machine, that he could theoretically use to call people without Samaritan hearing. He wasn’t completely sure how that worked and he never dared to use it unless they’d heard from the Machine recently since he strongly suspected it had to be active to make the call secure.

He stuck in a headset and dropped the phone in the drink holder of his car as he pulled out of the lot and headed towards the highway. The phone rang for a long time and then, right when he was about to give up, finally connected.

“Who the hell is this?” asked a familiar voice on the other side.

“Manners, Sameen,” said a much fainter and amused voice in the background. There was a muffled yelp shortly after.

“Hello, Shaw.” He was just going to ignore whatever that was that was going on there.

“Hersh. What do you want?” Shaw had never been easy to read and now was no exception.

“Control asked me to check in. We have...some friends of yours visiting here this week. She thinks they might be up to something. Wanted to see if you knew anything.”

“Which friends? We seem to have a lot these days.”

“That’d be the two friends you gave such a friendly greeting to back in the stock exchange.” Technically everything about this call would already be highly suspicious if someone found a way to listen in, but he wasn’t going to tempt fate.

“Oh. Them. Uh, no clue. But you should probably shoot them just to be safe.”

Moments like this were why he'd away liked Shaw. Because if it’d been up to him he’d have shot both of the Samaritan agents as well. In a better world he'd say they should go out for a (non-drugged) beer sometime and talk about shooting Samaritan agents. She could even bring her scary girlfriend along.

“Who’s he shooting, sweetie?”

“Will you knock that off?”

Hersh tried very hard not to wonder whether he’d interrupted Shaw and Root from...something.

“Hey, is, uh, failed James Bond...how’s he walking?”

“Not too well at the moment,” Hersh said, thinking about Lambert’s limp. “That your doing?”

“Not me. Root got him good. Broke that smug bitch’s nose, too.” Shaw sounded pretty pleased about that.

Hersh had noticed the faint discoloration remaining around Martine’s nose, though the injury itself had most likely healed.

“Well, she’s certainly been busy.” What in the world had they been up to that had Root in close-quarters combat with both of Greer’s pets?

Shaw snorted.

“You need anything else, Hersh? I’ve kinda got my hands full here. Shut up.”

The last bit didn’t seem to have been aimed at him so he added it to the list of things he was pretending he hadn’t heard.

“The, uh, our mutual employer was missing for a few days. Any idea why?”

He pulled his car into the driveway of his house and scooped his phone up to head in.

“Oh, right,” Shaw said. “Uh, nothing to worry about. She just...moved to a new office.”

Hersh pondered that as he pushed his front door open. His living room stretched out dark and quiet before him. He dropped his keys on the table by the door and started taking his coat off.

“Shaw, I may have to call you back some other time.”

“You’re the one who called me.”

“Yes, and I still have some questions. But there appears to be a corpse in my living room. Looks like a Samaritan agent triggered my crossbow tripwire.”

“Your crossbow… What?”

“Have a nice evening, Shaw.”

He hung up and went to look at the dead man with the crossbow bolt stuck through his neck. Pathetic, really. What were they teaching agents these days?

And more importantly, did this mean that Samaritan had finally decided it was time to take him out? Did they know about Control’s suspicions? About their connection to the Machine?

He needed to call Control. And reload his crossbow.

 

* * *

 

“I’m going to kill you when I get back.”

Shaw smirked and propped her feet up on the table at the subway.

“It could be worse, Reese. I could’ve set you up as an actual stripper instead of as stripper security.”

Reese made a pained noise over the comlink. “Who’s our number here?”

“Not completely sure. We didn’t get a normal number this time. It was a marriage license number. You’re at the bacherlorette party of the bride, one Phoebe Turner.”

“Yeah, I’ve got eyes on her. And her sister has eyes on me.”

There was an impolite little laugh over the line that let Shaw know that Root had barged into a private call yet again. She glanced over at the subway car where Root was supposedly working with the Machine. Root turned around for a second to wink at her and Shaw rolled her eyes before firmly turning her back on her.

“Anyway,” she continued, “our girl Phoebe is the daughter of this rich asshat named Kent Turner. Owns a bunch of race horses or some shit. There’s two other daughters in the picture as well: Janna and Karen.”

“Yes, Janna is my new bestest buddy,” Reese said, his tone implying that he was suffering greatly.

“Think you can wrangle an invitation to the wedding?”

“ _That’s_ why you sent me here? Seriously? You couldn’t think of a better way to get me in? Like as some long lost relative?”

“Fusco already has the long lost relative role covered and I’m unfortunately going to be his plus one. Needed a different route in for you.”

“All of you are going to this wedding?” Root cut in. “Sounds like fun.”

“It’s not going to be fun,” Shaw grumbled. “It’s a job, a number. We’re going to have to put up with a bunch of drunk, rich assholes. The whole thing is probably one of them trying to kill another over money. Ugh. This is a waste of our time.”

“So do we even have a guess as to who the number might be?” Reese asked.

Shaw refocused on the laptop she had on the table. “Uh, no clue. Someone at the wedding. Could be any of the guests, I suppose. There’s also the groom, Will O’Brien. He’s a public defender and I can’t imagine daddy is too happy about his little princess marrying this guy.”

“Apparently he’s unhappy enough that he’s changed his will so Karen will inherit the bulk of his estate instead of Phoebe,” Root supplied.

“Sounds like a possible motive to me,” Reese said.

Shaw left her laptop on the table and wandered over to the subway car.

“Thought you were working?” she asked.

Root glanced back over her shoulder with a quick smile.

“I like to help out when I can.” She pointed at her screen. “One of the guests at Reese’s party is the groom’s ex, Becca. She’s going to be a bridesmaid. That’s gotta be awkward.”

Shaw peered over her shoulder. “You see this Becca, Reese?”

He didn’t answer right away so Shaw guessed he was probably talking to someone at the party.

“Why’re you so interested in this, anyway?” she asked Root, moving around to lean on the desk next to her chair.

“Everyone’s going to a fancy party without me. Doesn’t seem fair.”

Root’s tone was light, joking but there was something about the way she said it that made Shaw frown.

“Did you…”

The comlink crackled and Reese was back.

“Well, I’ve got that invitation you wanted, Shaw. And you owe me like a month off. Or a raise.”

“Why?”

“I’ve going as Janna’s plus one.”

Shaw chuckled and glanced down at Root to enjoy the moment, but she’d gone back to whatever she was doing at the computer and didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore.

“Uh, good work, Reese. I’ve got a thing I need to do so you’re on your own.”

She cut the line off in the middle of Reese’s annoyed protests and left the subway car. She could almost feel Root’s eyes on her back as she walked away.

It was about an hour later when Root finally emerged from whatever coding trance she’d fallen back into and came over to find her, straddling the bench and resting her chin on Shaw's shoulder.

“You almost done, sweetie?” Root’s breath was warm on the side of her face from this close.

“Yeah, pretty much. You coming back with me tonight?”

That Root still stayed in the subway sometimes had become a bit of a touchy subject for Shaw as of late. Not because she minded that Root needed her space (and with the Machine being so cautious it was also so Root could talk to her more freely), but because she was pretty damn sure Root didn’t sleep much on those nights. More than once she’d been tempted to stop in and check on her, but she never did. It would have felt invasive.

There had been one night though, when that hadn't mattered. It had been a week ago when Root had been spending her second night in a row at the subway. Shaw's damn phone had started going off in the middle of the night and there’d been nothing but eardrum-destroying static on the other end that wouldn’t stop even when she tried to hang up. She’d jumped to the obvious conclusion that it was the Machine trying to get her attention and, lacking further instructions, headed to the subway armed to the teeth.

There hadn’t been any sort of attack or real threat like she’d assumed, but that night she’d found out how much worse Root’s nightmares had gotten, especially when she was away.

“Figured I would, as long as you didn’t have other plans?” Root’s words shook her out of the unsettling thoughts.

“No plans.” She fought down the urge she always got to tell Root she didn’t have to act like she was a guest. Maybe after Samaritan was destroyed they could find a better apartment where Root wouldn't have to feel like she was intruding in someone else’s space.

Shaw blinked, unsure where that sudden, unprecedented thought had come from. The idea of getting a place with someone else was...uncomfortable, in general, but that was more or less what she and Root already had. Her apartment wasn't even technically hers, just a place the Machine had gotten to fit her cover identity. Having Root more invested in a new place wouldn’t change anything, not really. She shook the thought aside. She could untangle her brain after Samaritan was destroyed. One step at a time.

“Come on,” she said, getting up and shutting her laptop. “We can grab some food on the way back.”

Root stood up and went to get her coat from the subway car. They both bundled up against the cold and headed outside.

“When’s the wedding?” Root asked as they walked along the dark sidewalk, the salt sprinkled on the ground to melt the snow crunching underfoot.

“Three days from now. Surprised they’re having a wedding at this time of year. Seems a bit cold for it. Thought people were into summer weddings.”

“Hmm, that’s Christmas eve. I guess they thought it was romantic. Or festive? Something silly and mind-numbingly unoriginal like that.” Root sounded scornful.

“Not a fan of the holidays?” It wasn’t a conversation they’d had in any depth beyond establishing that neither of them really observed any. The only person she knew who seemed excited about Christmas was Reese, who’d very badly wanted to put a Christmas tree in the subway. She’d vetoed this on the grounds that there’d be needles everywhere and it’d be a mess. He was still sulking.

Also he'd called her the grinch which might have been part of the reason he hadn't found out about his exciting new job as stripper security until it was too late.

“Not particularly.” Root didn’t seem inclined to say any more on the subject and Shaw had learned to recognize the inflection that suggested it was a sensitive topic that should be left well enough alone.

“Too bad, I bet this wedding is going to be all festive and shit. You’re going to have to suck it up and pretend to be full of holiday cheer.”

Root missed a step and half-stumbled before turning to look inquisitively at Shaw.

“What do you mean? I thought you didn't...that you had the wedding covered?”

“Apparently Zoe is going to be there. She called a little while ago and asked if I could go as her security detail. Means I won’t get to wear a dress. Again. But it also means Fusco still needs a plus one.”

Root peered at her, suspicious. “Zoe just happened to call?”

“Didn't really talk for long. Just said she was going.” Shaw made a mental note to let Zoe know that was the story she needed to tell if Root ever asked.

Root’s entire face had lit up again, eyes shining in a way that put to rest the slight uneasy feeling Shaw had been fighting down since the whole wedding topic had come up.

“Guess you’ll have to find a dress,” she continued to try and move away from the whole Zoe thing. “Or have the Machine find you one.”

“You could pick one out for me,” Root suggested with a teasing smile.

Shaw wasn’t completely sure how to respond to that. There were a couple ideas that immediately came to mind, different colors and cuts she could imagine only too well on Root, but what if Root didn’t like them or read into them somehow?

Every time she opened the closet in her apartment she saw that stupid blue shirt she’d bought Root ages ago hanging there with the rest of Root’s stuff. She hadn't worn it in a while, but it obviously meant something to her even if Shaw didn’t quite get what. Back then she’d just been buying Root whatever and thought that maybe she’d want one shirt that wasn’t black, and yeah, okay, thought she'd look hot in it. But Root had kept it. And now...it made her uneasy about getting her something else. Getting her the wrong thing. It mattered more now.

This was why she hated the holidays. Gift giving was more of a hassle than it was worth.

“I think I know just the thing to wear,” Root said into the silence and Shaw glanced at her, wondering if she’d picked up on what was going through her mind. But Root’s face was relaxed, and if she was hiding anything then she was doing it well.

They lapsed into mostly-comfortable silence until after they’d picked up the food and were walking back to Shaw’s apartment.

“So when you said you had no plans tonight…” Root’s voice trailed off suggestively.

“I take it _you_ have a ‘plan’ then?” Shaw asked. Root’s plans were always a good time.

“Not really. I thought we could do whatever you were in the mood for.”

“That’s uncharacteristically generous of you.” It wasn’t, exactly. Root liked concocting elaborate bedroom sexcapades, and Shaw preferred improvising, seeing where things went. Which was probably how tonight would turn out anyway, but she got why Root was making it a point to offer. And while she didn't want or need any sort of thanks for rearranging things for the damn wedding, at least it was taking a form that would inevitably benefit both of them.

“I’m sure I can think of _something_.” She did have a few ideas actually.

“Mmm, I bet you can.”

 

* * *

 

“Now that's dedication,” Shaw said, looking out the car window.

Reese had actually gotten to ride shotgun for once since Shaw was technically Zoe's driver, which meant Zoe got to lounge across the large comfortable back seats on her own. Since Root was driving up with Fusco (he didn't even want to imagine how _that_ was going) he'd talked his way into catching a ride with Shaw and Zoe.

The ‘dedication’ Shaw was currently so impressed by was a handful of very cold protesters holding up signs in their mittened hands.

“Animal rights activists?” Reese guessed.

“Root said they were taking Turner to court soon. Something about drugging some prize horse to run faster in a race.” Shaw tapped her fingers on the wheel impatiently as they waited for the cars in front of them to be let in through the gate checkpoint.

“Why did she…” Reese paused and glanced in the back, but Zoe was still very wrapped up in a phone conversation, talking softly but firmly to some contact.

“Why’d you switch things up so Root could come?” he asked quietly.

It felt a bit impertinent to ask, and a lot nosy, but he couldn't imagine Shaw insisting Root tag along to something this inane which meant Root had to have been the driving force behind the change. And, well, he could picture Root ‘accidentally’ lighting the fancy estate on fire mid-ceremony, but pyromaniacal urges aside he wasn't sure what Root got out of this.

Shaw was very focused on glaring at one of the protesters. “Could come in handy, having a hacker along.”

He was pretty sure that wasn't the full reason, but he’d pushed as much as he was willing. One car moved through the gates and Shaw pulled forward. Only two more cars ahead of them.

“She doesn't ask for things much,” Shaw said out of nowhere, still looking away from him. “And when she does she acts like it's not important, like she's never going to get it anyway.”

She shifted in her seat, obviously uncomfortable with the topic.

“Well, if you're in such a giving mood, how about that Christmas tree?” he asked.

Shaw turned around to fix him with the glare she'd been directing out the window. “No tree. What is it with you and the holidays?”

Reese shrugged. He'd given up on the tree situation days ago but it was always a topic sure to annoy Shaw and it had distracted her like he'd known it would.

“I just like some festive cheer. You know, Santa hats and eggnog. Doesn't have to be about anything deeper than that.”

“You can wear a dumb hat and get drunk any day of the year.”

They pulled forward to the front of the line and handed over their invitations before finally being allowed to continue onto the estate grounds. There wasn't much snow on the ground and the grass was suspiciously green for it being December. It was really damn cold though and Reese shivered as they made their way inside.

“What's the plan?” Zoe asked as they cleared the front door and took in the crowd.

Reese stared in horror at the mass of rich dilettantes and socialites and exchanged an unenthused look with Shaw. Zoe chuckled.

“Okay, I need to go talk to some of my associates here, pay my respects to Kent. Shaw, did you want to come with me?”

“What about me?” Reese asked not wanting to be left alone in this mob.

“Don't you have a date who's waiting for you, John?”

He grimaced. He'd almost forgotten about Janna.

Shaw smirked at him before following Zoe away, eyeing the other guests with barely-concealed distaste as she went.

He was about to venture away from the safe little alcove he'd found, look into tracking down the bride and groom, when someone grabbed him firmly by the upper arm.

“Well, look what we have here.” His captor looked him over with a discerning eye. “What's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”

It was Root, or someone who looked like her and sounded like her but with a strong helping of Texan accent. Fusco was standing behind her looking mildly horrified.

“I'm, uh, mingling?” What in the world was she up to?

Root patted him on the cheek. “Of course you are. I like you.” She turned back to Fusco who looked like he was considering fleeing. “Lionel, I like this one. Make a note.”

And then she was gone, prancing away through the crowd.

“What was that?” Reese asked Fusco, still completely bewildered.

“Your guess is as good as mine, partner.”

Fusco was supposed to be one of the groom's many estranged uncles from Canada and Root his cousin. Apparently his Texan cousin, though he doubted anyone would really care about the particulars.

“You guys have a plan?” Fusco asked. “Or are we just going to wait for my carpool buddy to tase everyone?”

“We're information gathering right now. Don't know enough to make a move.” He glanced Fusco over; he was actually wearing a fairly stylish suit and a tie with no stains on it. “Who picked out the suit?”

“What? No one. Why? What's wrong with it?”

“Nothing. That's why I asked.”

“Thanks a bunch.” Fusco sulked. “Guess I should go make sure banana nut crunch doesn't get into too much trouble.” He looked glum at the prospect. “How'd I end up babysitting the homicidal maniac?”

“She hasn't killed anyone in months,” Reese pointed out. “That I know of, anyway.”

“Yeah, that's _real_ reassuring.” Fusco wandered away in the direction Root had vanished.

“There you are!”

Reese groaned slightly as he recognized Janna Turner’s voice and forced a smile into his face. Next time he was staying home with the dog.

 

* * *

 

“So our bride caught the groom and his ex in the act,” Fusco said. “I feel like everyone in this place has a potential motive.”

Root raised an eyebrow at him and then turned back to watch the horses in the stalls of the heated stable they'd snuck into.

“She caught them kissing. That's hardly ‘in the act’. That would imply something more like…”

“Do me a favor and don't finish that sentence.”

She hadn't even been going to say anything _that_ bad.

“Still sounds like a potential motive to me,” Fusco continued after a moment.

Root wandered over to the front of one of the big horse stalls. The horse within pricked its ears up at her approach and shuffled over towards her.

“She didn't sound murderous,” Root reasoned. “Only upset. Her sister, on the other hand...who tells their own sister to marry someone they saw cheating on them?” She shook her head. “Karen stands to inherit a lot from this, remember.”

The big horse had come over to the door and Root held her hand out, flat, to let it smell her. It'd been a few years since she'd last been around a horse, but she still remembered some basic things.

“So if neither of them is the perp…” Fusco looked back towards where they'd found Phoebe crying to her sister, Karen about catching Will with his ex.

“There's no reason either of them still couldn't be the perp, or the victim. But I don't think this whole Becca situation is directly tied into our number.”

The horse must have decided that Root met its standards because it bumped her hand with its nose. She smiled, oddly pleased that she'd passed inspection, and reached her arm up to scratch its neck.

“Didn't take you for an animal lover,” Fusco said. “Didn't think you liked anything living.”

“Well, now you've gone and hurt my feelings,” Root said dryly. “I have no issues with animals, I just haven't been around them much. Except Bear, of course. But I did have to learn to ride for a...job a few years ago.”

Fusco moved over towards her, keeping a respectful distance, though whether that was because he was afraid of the horse or Root was unclear.

“I don't get you at all,” he said. He sounded puzzled. “I mean if you told me there were two fancy computer gods out there and one wanted to save humanity and one wanted to rule it, well, this isn't the side I'd have guessed you'd picked.”

Root stiffened a little, thinking about some of the things Samaritan had done. There was a world of difference between uniformly disliking the human race and targeting specific people and groups. She knew that wasn't what Fusco had meant, but it still irked her.

“I've never had any interest in ruling anyone, Lionel. Really not my style.” It sounded exhausting.

“So what do you get out of all this?”

“I get the Machine. Or rather, She gets me. That's more than enough.”

“It's really that simple?”

Root shrugged and focused on scratching the horse's neck. Nothing was ever simple, but she wasn't going to elaborate.

“Sorry,” Fusco said after a moment. “Didn't mean to pry. I like knowing why people do what they do. Part of the job, right? And I get wonder boy and Shaw, but you? Never quite know what to expect.”

Root finally spared him a glance and was surprised to find he looked sincere and a bit contrite. It made some part of her want to use that to her advantage, play him for all he was worth, but she fought down the urge.

There was some remaining thread of anger in her that he'd been the one who'd stopped her from going after Shaw that day in the stock exchange, even though she knew damn well that Shaw had been at least somewhat behind his actions. But that anger clashed head on with the fact that he cared enough about Shaw that he'd been willing to do that for her. And even if Root didn't care for the outcome, didn't think saving her life was worth what had happened, she could respect the sentiment.

“Let's go see who else we can find,” she said after an awkward moment or two.

She gave the horse a regretful goodbye pat and headed back towards the house.

“You think that photographer, uh, Maggie, might know more about what's going on?” Fusco asked as they walked.

“Maybe? Why?” The woman had been nice enough, but Root hadn't been paying too much attention.

“Dunno, just got a feeling she knew something.”

“Your detective sense is tingling?”

Somewhere Shaw was probably rolling her eyes.

“When I'm right about this I get to say I told you so,” Fusco grumbled.

Root relented. Fusco was a good detective despite all the grief she gave him.

“Let's keep an eye on her, then.”

“Too many crazies here to keep an eye on.”

On that they could definitely agree.

“Maybe we need a better way to watch them,” Root said, eyeing a security camera mounted on the wall. “I have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw was ready to leave about ten minutes before she got in the front door. Everyone in the damn place was enthusiastically friendly in a very fake way, and she suspected the majority of them didn't actually enjoy each other's company.

Also there were enough tacky Christmas decorations to fill the north pole. Maybe she'd let Reese steal a tree.

Zoe's conversation with Kent Turner, the horse racing mogul, went on longer than she'd have liked, but she did find out that the horse he'd supposedly doped was named Don Juan and Turner was very adamant in asserting his innocence. Zoe hadn't even asked him about that.

It quickly became clear that the reason Turner had been so eager to have Zoe Morgan attend his daughter's wedding was because he wanted to secure her help in the event that the court case went poorly for him.

“What do you think?” Zoe asked when they finally got free of Turner.

“Didn't look like he was lying about the horse, but he could be a really good liar. Either way still doesn't get us closer to our number.”

Why couldn't the Machine have just given them a number like normal? She'd asked Root about that but apparently the obnoxious AI hadn't given her anything more to go on. It was almost like the damn thing wanted them to have to drag their butts out to this debacle.

“What's next then?” Zoe had led the way through the unavoidable social niceties, and now they were back in Shaw's world.

“See if the others found anything.” She hadn't seen Root or Fusco yet.

“Everyone enjoying the fancy shindig?” she asked as she activated the comm.

“My date seems more interested in tequila than in me.” Reese sounded even more done than she felt. “So that's a plus, I guess.”

“Your little pet anarchist found a way into the security camera system here,” said Fusco. “We've got eyes everywhere now.”

“Where you two at?”

“Uh, some kind of library-office thing? Room is bigger than my apartment.”

“It's in the hall to the left of the entrance,” Root cut in. “From where you're standing head out the door, across the hall, and make a left.”

Even without the Machine feeding her information Root still managed to be creepily omniscient. Stupid security cameras.

Reese had already joined Root and Fusco in the office by the time Shaw and Zoe showed up. Fusco was shaking a Christmas wreath at Reese in a threatening manner which, yeah, she didn't even want to know, and Root had set herself up on a laptop at the desk. Leaving the boys to their dramatics, she headed over to join Root.

“You bored yet?” she asked, leaning down to get a look at the camera feeds.

“Why, you wanna go play hookey in the stables? I think I spotted a quiet corner we could use to our advantage.”

“Last thing we need is you spooking an entire barn full of horses in the middle of a wedding.”

“Me?” Root asked in mock-incredulity. “Compared to you I'm as quiet as a mouse.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Root’s face split into a particularly evil grin. “I can get proof. I mean there's audio devices practically everywhere these days. I'm sure She has plenty of…”

Shaw jabbed her in the side with one finger. “We can prove how wrong you are later. Now have you seen anything useful on these feeds?”

“Well, it looks like the wedding’s still on.” Root pointed at one of the camera feeds where Will and Phoebe were all over each other.

“Apparently our bride-to-be walked in on Will with his tongue down Becca’s throat,” Root explained. “But they seem to have moved past that.”

“Don't suppose she seemed the type to kill Becca anyway?”

Root shook her head. “One of her sisters, maybe. But neither of them has anything to gain from this marriage not taking place. Karen gets to inherit and Janna is one step closer.”

“There's too many almost-motives in this place.” Reese had joined them, Fusco and Zoe close behind. The Christmas wreath was thankfully no longer with them.

“Good to see they worked it out,” Fusco said, looking at Will and Phoebe on the monitor. “I told him to try for honesty.”

“ _You_ told him?” Shaw glanced at Root for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Fusco continued, “he’s supposed to be my nephew and he needed advice. And I think my advice was a lot better than hers.” He jerked his thumb at Root.

“What'd she tell him?”

“Something about how ruining someone’s bank account can being more satisfying than violence, and both together being the path to true happiness.”

Shaw chuckled which only made Fusco look more put out.

“Will asked Fusco to sing at the wedding,” Root said with undisguised glee.

“Think I talked my way out of that one.” Fusco didn't look very reassured though.

The door to the office swung open and everyone jumped and shuffled around to hide the laptop as a woman entered the room.

“Everyone’s gathering for the ceremony now,” the woman said. “Hurry along or you'll be late.”

“Don't suppose we could hide out in here until it's over, do you?” Shaw asked when the woman had left. Weddings really weren't her thing.

“What if someone gets murdered during the ceremony? Like the bride or groom?” Zoe asked.

Shaw groaned.

“Would save them the expensive and emotionally draining divorce in a few years,” Root said. She looked away from the computer screen long enough to make a face at Shaw, which actually made her feel a bit less cranky.

She hung back a little with Root when everyone filed out to go to the ceremony.

“What's with the accent?” Root's Texan accent had been coming and going freely.

“Thought I'd keep things interesting. Making myself speak with or without a specific accent is good practice. Also it really confuses the boys.”

Shaw could appreciate that part at least.

“Thought for sure you'd be wearing a dress,” she said as they walked in the direction everyone else had headed.

Root was wearing something that vaguely resembled one of Reese's suits, but with a much tighter fit.

“Weren't sure what we were walking into here,” Root said, fidgeting with the suit jacket. “Thought I'd wear something easier to run and fight in. Why? Is it not doing it for you?”

Shaw had absolutely no complaints about how well-fitted Root's outfit was.

“You're upstaging Reese with it, for sure.”

Root looked pleased. “Also I thought since you didn't get to wear a dress again…” She shrugged.

Shaw didn't really give a shit about that. It was fun to get all fancy sometimes and she knew she pulled it off well when she wanted to, but she wasn't going to lose sleep over having to wear the very expensive clothes Zoe kept supplying her with from her personal tailor. Still, it was a nice gesture.

They reached the big room where the ceremony was set to take place and took a minute to watch the crowd of people inside.

“Maybe we'll get lucky and someone _does_ try to commit murder during the ceremony,” Shaw said hopefully.

“I can kill someone if you'd like, sweetie. Just say the word.”

“Should have taken you up on that fuck-in-the-stable offer.”

“I mean, we could still go. I'm sure Zoe and the boys can handle this lot.”

“Tempting, but…. Ugh, let's just get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

It had been a very nice ceremony, Reese thought as he wandered through the halls, peering into rooms as he passed. The bride and groom had both looked lovely and the whole thing had gone off without a hitch. Of course there'd been the small matter of the three men who were almost definitely hired killers who'd hung out in the back of the room and then vanished before they could get to them, but other than that it had been quite nice.

He opened another door, looked inside and then quickly shut it again as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the occupants. Well, he guessed that maybe weddings just got some people in the mood. At least it hadn't been Root and Shaw, though judging by Shaw's extra bored and unimpressed expression throughout the ceremony, weddings probably weren't a huge turn-on.

Root had handled that part well. She'd leaned over to whisper stuff to Shaw every few minutes, the mischievous grin on her face leaving no doubt in Reese's mind that she was saying something violent or inappropriate (inappropriately violent? violently inappropriate? all the options were possible with Root involved). He'd seen Shaw's lips almost twitch into a smile a few times despite herself.

“Reese, you got anything?” Shaw asked over the comms. “Camera feeds were shut off during the ceremony so we can't see where these guys went.”

“Haven't found anything. Well, haven't found any bad guys anyway.”

“Root went to try and track down that photographer lady who's been taking pictures all over. Thought she might have captured something on film.”

“I'll head back to the office then. Don't think anything over here is gonna help us unless you want to know about what the best man and Kent Turner’s nephew are getting up to in the music room.”

“Hard pass. Just get back here. I'll see what Fusco is up to.”

Fusco beat him back to the office.

“Anything on the cameras?” Reese asked as he shut the door behind him.

Shaw glanced up from the laptop. “Still nothing. It's a big place though. Plenty of areas without cameras.”

“Strange how they're able to avoid them, huh?” Fusco said. “Like someone warned them ahead of time.”

Shaw nodded. “Which would have to be someone who had access and was familiar with the estate. So, one of the Turners probably.”

“Did someone order a photographer?”

Root stumbled through the door, half-carrying Maggie the photographer. She deposited the unconscious woman in a chair and then fumbled with the strap of the camera she’d hung around her own neck.

“I really should just arrest you,” Fusco said sadly. “No one would blame me.”

“Did you tase her?” Reese asked. She'd seemed like a nice enough person when he'd run into her earlier.

“Of course not!” Root looked offended.

“Looks drugged to me.” Shaw leaned over the sleeping woman.

“Well you'd know all about drugging pretty women, wouldn't you?” Root actually batted her damn eyes at Shaw.

“I gave you like a third of a dose and your weak ass passed out,” Shaw said. “And you're one to talk. You tased me within five minutes of meeting me. And then a second time while I was _asleep_.” Her emphasis made it clear that the real crime here was that she'd been woken up, however briefly.

“You two have the weirdest courting rituals ever.” Fusco still looked like he wanted to arrest someone; maybe all of them.

Shaw started scowling at the ‘courting rituals’ part so Reese jumped in quickly.

“Maybe that's just how Root introduces herself to ladies.” He grinned at Shaw. “Guess someone new has caught her eye, Shaw.”

Shaw looked murderous (though he suspected that was from the teasing and not from any real worry. He didn't think jealousy was really Shaw's thing anyway). Root came over behind her and reached out to run her hands up and down her arms a few times.

“I’m completely willing to render you unconscious in any way you want,” she told Shaw placatingly. “Whenever and wherever.”

“Just...give me the fucking camera.” Shaw snatched it from Root without waiting and took it over to the laptop at the desk.

Reese stepped within whispering range of Root. “She's gonna be alright though, right? Maggie, I mean.”

Root glanced down at the woman. “Her? She'll be fine. And she'll feel all rested and refreshed after her nap.”

Reese had been drugged enough times to be fairly sure that was an out and out lie, but he let it go.

“Where's Zoe?” Root asked, looking around.

“She’s in the main area keeping an eye on people.” Reese had wanted to leave someone else there with her just in case. He knew she could handle herself in a lot of situations, but those men they'd seen at the wedding ceremony had looked like they were ex-military.

“There's nothing useful on here.” Shaw looked up from the laptop. “No pictures of our missing buddies.”

“Can I see?” Root went over to join her and started poking around at the computer.

Shaw didn't look annoyed anymore, much to Reese's relief. And even though she'd moved to let Root use the laptop, she stayed close enough that Root was pressed up against her side a bit.

“There's some deleted images that I think we might be able to salvage,” Root said.

“In the meantime…” Shaw started.

A loud voice crackled over the PA system. “Put your hands together for the groom's very own uncle Linus, here all the way from Edmonton to sing for us.”

“Oh, no.” Fusco looked ready to pass out on the spot.

The door burst open and Will came in. “Everyone's waiting, uncle!” He grabbed Fusco by one arm and dragged him out.

“Oh, no,” Reese echoed into the silence.

“This is the worst mission ever,” Shaw agreed.

“Is Fusco that bad of a singer?” Root asked.

“It's not that he's bad…” Reese started.

“He sings on stakeouts,” Shaw explained. “Like, constantly. And he's not _bad_ but when I'm stuck in a car with someone for hours I don't wanna have them belting out tunes in my ear.”

“Well, I'm definitely not missing out on this.” Root slipped past both of them and out the door.

Reese met Shaw's eyes. “I mean, he's not _bad_ …” he said again.

“No, but every time I hear his singing voice I wanna murder someone. Possibly myself. It's like a Pavlovian response.”

But she still followed him when he headed towards where everyone was gathered.

 

* * *

 

“He isn't half bad,” Root said.

Next to her Shaw appeared to be restraining an overwhelming urge to roll her eyes.

“Interesting song choice.” Reese was on the other side of Shaw, eyes glued to the stage. “I'm not sure if ‘Cowboy Take Me Away’ is really a wedding song though. I'm not sure if _any_ of the Dixie Chick’s songs are.” Root wondered if he realized he was tapping his fingers in time to the music.

“Not the song by them I'd have gone with,” Root agreed.

“ _You_ like the Dixie Chicks?” Shaw stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

“I like ‘Goodbye Earl’.” Root took a minute to enjoy imagining the reaction singing _that_ would get.

Reese nodded to himself. “Somehow that doesn't surprise me at all.”

Shaw turned her incredulous stare on him. “You, too?”

“Borrowed a CD from Fusco after having to listen to it on loop an entire night on the car. They're actually pretty good.”

“Shush.” Filtering out overlapping sounds with only one working ear wasn't always possible and Root didn't want to miss any of Fusco’s performance.

“Don't shush me,” Shaw grumbled, but shushed herself anyway.

Root reached out to hook one finger into the pocket of Shaw's pants. Shaw twitched at the contact but didn't seem inclined to shake her off. Root rubbed the back of her finger back and forth along Shaw's leg through her pocket. It was such a slight touch, familiar but not particularly intimate, and Root was surprised that Shaw was allowing it, that she was actually leaning into her touch a bit.

The fact that Shaw was not amused with the wedding situation had been pretty plainly obvious to Root since they'd arrived and she'd been doing everything she could to try and distract her. Well, everything short of pushing her into an empty room and stripping her out of her tailored pants.

She knew Shaw had gone out of her way to include her in this mission and she appreciated that more than she'd ever be able to tell her without making her very uncomfortable, but there was no way she could enjoy herself if Shaw was miserable.

She wished she knew how to thank Shaw for, well, everything. More than she'd ever imagined and definitely more than she deserved. She sighed a little under her breath and tried to focus on Fusco’s surprisingly melodious voice.

“We got trouble,” Reese said a few seconds later.

The thugs from earlier were lurking near the back of the room. Three of them now. When all of them left the room headed in different directions Root sadly accepted that she was going to miss the end of Fusco’s performance. Maybe the Machine was recording it.

“One each,” Shaw said, nodding after the vanishing men. “See if one of them wants to tell us who their target is.”

Root waited until she was out in the hall to draw her gun. Her target had vanished through a door nearby right as she'd come into view, and she suspected he knew he was being followed.

Her suspicions were confirmed when, upon opening the door, the man moved in from the side and slammed her wrist hard enough that her gun went flying. She decided not to ever tell Shaw how she'd let herself be completely blind-sided by some hired muscle and attempted to regain a bit of dignity by using a move Shaw had taught her to put the man on the ground.

When he got back up he went for his gun, and Root grabbed his arm and propelled him into a table. She pulled a knife out of the horizontal belt sheath she'd taken to wearing on her back (stabbing that Samaritan agent in the throat the day they'd gone after the code had been a rather inspiring moment for her and she'd decided to add knives to her arsenal on a regular basis) and moved in before he could recover.

As tempting as it was, she refrained from stabbing him in the neck and settled for driving the knife through his hand to pin it to the table. The man screamed in an irritating way and then, much to her amusement, passed out.

“Everyone still alive?” It was Shaw over the comlink.

“I'm fine, but I think the happy couple are down a blender.” Reese sounded disgusted. “Or whatever was in this present box I decked him with.”

“That's nothing,” Shaw said. “I threw my guy right into the wedding cake. Oops.”

“And _I_ signed the guestbook.” Root looked at the pool of blood spreading out from the man's hand across the fancy registry book. “With someone else's blood.”

“Hopefully not a dead someone?” Reese asked. Though he only half sounded like he cared. Clearly Shaw wasn't the only one completely done with this whole wedding debacle.

“He passed out a bit, but I think he'll survive.” She prodded him with the toe of her boot. “Probably.”

“Did any of you lunatics get anything useful while you were busy ruining the wedding?” Fusco had entered the conversation as well now.

“Nothing on my guy,” Reese said.

“Uh, I'll let you know when I clean enough icing off this guy to search his pockets.”

Root stooped to empty the pockets of the second person she'd knocked out without killing today. There was a photograph in his front jacket pocket.

“Whoops,” she said when she got a look at it.

“Whoops?” Reese asked. “Why whoops?”

“What’d you do this time?” Shaw asked and then made a disgusted noise. “I got butterscotch or some shit all over me for nothing.”

“So, I know who the victim is.” Root hurried back towards the office as she spoke. “It's our photographer friend, Maggie.”

“The one you drugged and we left unconscious on her own?” Reese asked.

“How was I supposed to know someone wanted to kill my kidnapping victim?”

Maggie was notably absent from the office when Root entered, but at least there wasn't a corpse. She'd never have heard the end of it from Reese and Fusco.

She was checking through the security cameras when Shaw and Reese arrived.

“Any idea where she might be?” Shaw asked, glancing over the camera feeds.

“Not a clue.” She hadn't seen Maggie or anyone suspicious on any of the feeds.

“Maybe there's a lesson to be learned here about drugging innocent people,” Fusco said over the comm.

Root rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. The next time I drug someone I'll stuff them in a closet so the bad guys can't find them.”

Fusco grumbled in exasperation, but Shaw chuckled a bit so Root figured she'd won that round.

“You ever get those deleted images off her camera?” Shaw asked.

She'd completely forgotten about that. “No, let me do that right now.”

“Wait.” Shaw pointed at the screen. “There she is. Out in the middle of nowhere on the estate.”

“Looks like she's got company, too,” Root said. Two men she hadn't seen before were following Maggie, catching up slowly but steadily.

“Shit. Reese, let's go.”

“What about me?” Root asked. She didn't want to miss out on some quality violence.

“Stay here and finish getting those images back. They might be important.”

Root slumped in her chair as the other two left. Oh, well. She'd just have to finish quickly and find some way to catch up with them.

She perked up, a truly fantastic idea formulating in her mind. Really she wasn't sure why she hadn't thought of it immediately. Sheer genius.

She set something up to finish recovering the images for her and then hurried out of the room.

 

* * *

 

“You see them, Reese?” Shaw asked over the comm.

“Not yet,” Reese replied. He was cold, tired, hungry, and really not happy about spending his Christmas eve tromping around through frozen horse pastures.

A flash of movement through the trees caught his eye.

“Actually, wait, there's something up ahead.”

“On my way.”

He crept up to a small clearing ahead where two men who looked similar to the ones they'd taken out earlier had forced Maggie to her knees and were pointing guns at her.

Reese sighed. It was too cold for this shit. He gritted his teeth and took a running leap to tackle one of the men, projecting that the movement would crash them into the second man and hopefully give him the upper hand.

The first man collapsed to the ground under his weight and didn't have enough time to recover before Reese knocked him out, but the second man only staggered a little and recovered quickly. He started raising his gun back up and Reese grabbed the nearest thing he could find and hurled it at him. There was a nasty thud and then the man folded up and fell over.

Reese searched the ground for the thing he'd thrown and spotted a horseshoe in the grass near the fallen man.

“Must have been my lucky day,” he said and looked over at Maggie to see if she'd gotten the joke. But she wasn’t even looking at him. It figured. He bet if Root had gotten off a pun that good there'd have been a small crowd congratulating her.

But no, Maggie was frozen up staring past him at…. Oops. He spun around to find two more armed men coming towards him. He reached for his gun, though he knew he'd never have time to draw it.

There was a loud metallic thud and one of the men went down to reveal Shaw standing behind him with a shovel. She looked quite pleased with herself. She shifted her grip on the shovel and used it to sweep the other man's feet out from under him before bashing him in the face with the shovel head.

“Good timing,” he said. He felt she'd slightly outdone his dramatic entrance but he was willing to forgive her since she'd probably saved his life.

“Reese? Shaw?” It was Zoe's voice over the comm. “Those deleted pictures just finished restoring. Looks like Maggie got pictures of Don Juan being doped.”

Reese wondered how Zoe had gotten roped into waiting for the pictures and what that meant Root was up to.

“So who doped the horse then?” Shaw asked.

“That would be me.” Karen Turner, the oldest Turner sister, marched out of the trees flanked by yet another two men with guns. Had she hired an entire army?

“Karen, I swear I deleted the pictures. I'll never tell anyone what I saw.” Maggie sounded terrified.

“I’m afraid I can't take that chance,” Karen said. “With Phoebe marrying her little gold digger boy toy I stand to inherit quite a bit. I can't let that be endangered before I even get ahold of it.” She glanced over Shaw and Reese. “You two, hands in the air.”

Shaw rolled her eyes but complied and Reese followed suit. This was really the worst mission ever.

“I think maybe one of you killed Maggie and then you shot each other.” Karen nodded to herself. “Yes, that will work nicely.”

“Why the hell would we shoot each other?” Shaw asked. “That's the dumbest story ever.”

“Pretty sure even Shaw's dog could come up with a better idea than that,” Reese agreed.

“Don't compare Bear to these losers.”

“Both of you, shut up!” Karen glared at them, probably confused at their lack of fear. “Ugh, just shoot them already.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shaw tense, ready to move against them. He mentally prepared himself, planning how to move so the bullet was less likely to hit him somewhere fatal.

Three shots rang out through the clearing and Karen and both men went down with bullets in the knee. Reese looked around, trying to see who'd saved them and then….

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Shaw said.

Root came riding into the clearing on a tall horse, looking properly poised and majestic.

“Hey kids,” she called. “Figured you’d get in trouble so I hurried over to help rein in the bad guys.” She twirled the ends of the reins around a bit just in case they'd missed the joke and ‘winked’ at them. Behind him, Reese heard Maggie laugh, slightly hysterically, but still an actual laugh.

And that was it. He was done with this whole thing. Christmas was cancelled.

And from the look on Shaw's face she was seriously considering beating Root with her shovel.

“I'll get Maggie back to the house and leave you two to clean up here.” Root rode the horse over to Maggie and offered her a hand up.

“Who...who are you?” Maggie asked reaching out to take her hand.

“I'm the one who drugged you earlier,” Root said cheerfully as Maggie settled on the horse behind her. “Now hang on.” She turned the horse back towards the house and rode off with a confused and terrified Maggie clinging to her waist.

Silence stretched out in the clearing for quite a few minutes after her departure.

“Shaw?”

“Yeah, Reese?”

“Did Root just sweep in on a horse, save our asses, and then ride off into the sunset with the girl?”

“Yeah, that happened.”

“Just checking.”

“I hate her.”

She didn't sound like she hated her.

“I guess we should deal with all this.” He gestured at Karen and the pile of hired killers. “Not sure why she had to shoot Karen, too.”

“Eh, she had it coming.” Shaw sounded like she gave exactly zero fucks about it, and he was pretty close to that himself.

“What're we going to do with our collection of grievously injured killers and Turner’s homicidal daughter?”

“Lock em in the cellar and let Fusco and the cops handle it tomorrow.” Shaw shook herself out of her funk and moved to grab one of the unconscious thugs.

“Why wait?”

“Because I need a drink or ten and the only fun part of weddings is the after party and I'll be damned if I miss it after all this bullshit.”

He could get behind that reasoning.

“Still can't believe she rode in on a horse.” Though he shouldn't have been so surprised after all the other stunts she'd pulled.

“It was…” Shaw’s sentence trailed off into a mumble.

“I missed that. What’d you say?”

“It was, uh, kinda hot actually.” Shaw glared at him, daring him to comment.

He decided to stay silent and concentrate on carrying bad guys.

“Don't you dare tell her I said that.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

 

* * *

 

Root slipped up next to Shaw as she was locking a chain on the cellar doors.

“Hey, darlin’, buy a girl a drink?” She leaned against the wall and smiled at her. She was dying to know what Shaw had thought of her spectacular entrance on the horse, but she'd wait for Shaw to mention it first.

“Was about to head back to the party anyway,” Shaw said, dropping the chain so the heavy lock thudded against the door. “Maggie okay?”

“A bit freaked out, but otherwise fine.” She fell into step with Shaw. “I have a feeling she'll be willing to testify against Karen now.”

“Probably.” Shaw seemed distracted.

“Before we head in with the others…” Root tugged on Shaw's arm.

“Not that I'm objecting to the idea, but can I get a drink before you drag me off for some sex romp in the stable?”

Root patted her arm. “I know you'll probably never believe me, but that wasn't what I had in mind. This will only take a second.”

“Oh.” Shaw sounded a little disappointed.

The guests’ cars were all parked in a large lot on the side of the estate and Fusco’s battered car was easy to spot.

“Fusco’s gonna arrest you for real if you break into his car,” Shaw pointed out.

“Please,” Root said dismissively and fished a ring of keys out of her pocket. “I stole his keys hours ago.”

“Of course you did.” There was a tiny smile on Shaw's lips as she shook her head.

Root opened the back door of the car, pulled out her surprise, and presented it to Shaw.

“Is that one of my dresses?” Shaw asked taking the hanger from her and examining the garment in the fading light.

“I brought one for me, too,” Root said reaching back into the car. Fusco hadn't even asked why she'd hung a bunch of dresses in his car. He'd probably figured it was the least weird thing she'd done.

Shaw was staring blankly at her dress.

“I know you probably weren't serious when you said the part about not getting to wear a dress again,” Root said hurriedly. “But I thought it would be fun.”

“Definitely wasn't serious, but why not?” Shaw twisted her arm around so she was holding the dress back over one shoulder. “I look damn good in a dress.”

“I know you do, sweetie.” Root reached back into the car and pulled out a pair of heels. “Brought you these, too.”

She got her own shoes from the car and relocked it.

“Let's go get changed and join the others.”

They trudged back across the dark parking lot towards the main building.

“Good thing you brought yourself a change of clothes,” Shaw said halfway back. “You smell like horse.”

“Occupational hazard. Also your spiffy little jacket still has wedding cake on it.”

Shaw looked down at her clothes and cursed. “Worst mission ever.”

“Maybe we can still salvage it.”

 

* * *

 

There were worse ways to spend an evening, Shaw reflected. The whole team had staked claim to a table in the big room the wedding after-party was taking place in, and were working their way through a bottle of very nice bourbon that Reese had liberated from the Turner’s private stock.

Reese looked a lot less sullen than he'd been earlier and had let Zoe drag him out for a dance more than once. Fusco hadn’t even gotten mad when Root returned his keys and was currently dancing with one of the bridesmaids. And Root…. The dark green dress she'd changed into looked fantastic, and even though she wasn't really engaging with the others that much she was watching all of them and smiling.

She looked happy, Shaw realized. Genuinely happy.

“Think Turner would mind if I permanently borrowed Sudo?” Root asked.

“Borrowed what?” Had Root seen her watching her?

“She's the horse I acquired earlier. I think she got attached to me.”

“You can't name a horse after a Unix command. Also where would you keep her?”

Root sighed, disappointed. “Good point.”

“I was thinking about getting some property upstate in the next year or two,” Zoe said from the other side of Root. “If you're still interested then and can ensure Turner will never find out, you can keep your pilfered horse there.”

Root beamed at her.

The bourbon bottle was getting fairly empty as the night wore on. Shaw debated if it was worth stealing more, but decided against it. She had to drive Zoe back at some point after all.

“Think they're going to start wrapping things up pretty soon,” Reese said as he stood up to escort Zoe to the dance floor again. He bumped Shaw's chair with his knee for what must have been the tenth time in the last hour. “Probably not many songs left.”

Shaw resisted the urge to trip him as he walked away. The thing was she knew _exactly_ what he was trying to do, and even though Root hadn’t said anything or looked even remotely interested, Shaw was willing to bet she secretly was dying for Shaw to ask her to dance. But they were at a stupid wedding on Christmas eve and everything was all romantic and mushy and, well, that wasn’t who she was. And pretending it was would have felt an awful lot like lying.

Root’s hand landed on her leg under the table, fingers rubbing back and forth along her thigh, just slightly too high up to be appropriate. When Shaw glanced up, Root smiled at her.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Shaw didn’t answer at first. She looked out at the dance floor, at all the happy couples, and then back at Root who’d once again picked up on her discomfort and was trying to make things easier for her.

She looked away. “Ask me to dance.”

There was a stunned silence from next to her.

“Shaw, I don’t need you to…”

“Root...just ask. Okay? Like, when you want something, just ask.” She made herself turn back just in time to see the tail end of one of the most raw looks she’d ever seen on Root’s face vanish under a mask of apathy.

This really didn’t have to be that complicated, she thought.

“We both know this--” She gestured towards the couples on the dance floor with her chin. “--isn’t really my thing. I mean, I like dancing, it’s fun and all, but…” There were way too many dreamy-eyed couples out there. But there was also Zoe and Reese and Fusco and some woman who’d attached herself to him, and none of them looked like there was anything romantic between them. They were all out there having a good time. “It can just be fun, okay?”

Root didn’t seem to know how to respond to any of that because she stayed silent, frozen in place. Shaw groaned and got up, pulling Root up after her. She more or less had to manhandle her onto the dance floor, and even then she stayed completely stiff up against Shaw.

“Will you relax?” This didn’t have to be awkward, but it would be if Root didn’t chill out.

Root relaxed fractionally. Shaw grumbled and pulled her slightly closer, let her hand slide up a little so she could rest her fingers on Root’s back where her dress was cut way too low for the occasion. Not that she was complaining at all.

“I don’t...I don’t need anything like that from you,” Root said after a second. She gestured towards the happy newlyweds who were gazing into each other’s eyes in a way that kind of made Shaw want to dump an ice bucket over them.

“I know. So it’s fine. This...thing we’ve got going, it works because…” She trailed off, failing at words again.

“Because we’re both too cynical and jaded to have time for starry-eyed fantasies?” Root suggested. She sounded like she was teasing, back to normal.

“Says the person who showed up to save the day on a fuckin’ horse earlier.”

“You two had a head start on me and I had to catch up,” Root protested. “Though She told me you beat up a couple bad guys with a shovel. Wish I could’ve seen that.”

“The Machine’s talking to you outside the subway?”

“Not really. She just checked in a couple times. She was a big fan of the horse rescue, by the way.”

Shaw snorted. “I bet she was. Damn computer faked her own death, I mean. You’re a pair of melodramatic losers.” Root had fully relaxed against her now. Across the dance floor, Reese smirked at her and she flipped him off. “What I meant was, we’re both...on the same page, right? No one’s getting lied to.”

Root didn’t answer but she did tighten her grip on her a bit and smiled so Shaw figured that meant things were okay.

“Also you brought my highest pair of heels and your lowest pair so I’m pretty sure you had this in mind from before we even got here,” Shaw continued. Root was the least subtle person ever. “If I twist my ankle you’re not getting sex for like a w...a day. Maybe two days.”

“I wanted you to have a good time.” Root gave a little half-smile. “That was all.”

“Who says I’m not?”

If they’d been the kind of couple who was into that sort of thing they’d probably have had some meaningful kiss right about then, Shaw figured, but Root did let her hand wander down to discreetly grab her ass a bit which was way better.

 

* * *

 

The party had mostly ended by eleven, but most people didn’t seem to be leaving and instead passed out wherever they ended up. Some couples snuck away to find somewhere more private to spend the evening.

Shaw had secured a very nice sitting room for the two of them, which had an actual fireplace with a roaring fire in it. Root had expected things to turn a bit more hot and heavy at this point, but Shaw had seemed more interested in kicking off her heels and collapsing on the very nice leather sofa across from the fire. She hadn’t protested when Root had joined her and leaned on her a bit.

When the others found them about twenty minutes later, Shaw was propped up against one of the armrests of the couch and Root had somehow found herself lying back on Shaw’s chest, bracketed by her legs. The door opening made her tense and try to sit up; she knew it was probably the rest of the team since everyone else was dead drunk or otherwise busy, but she didn’t think Shaw would want to be sitting like this in front of their friends.

Shaw tightened her arms around her though and there was no way Root could sit up with Shaw’s distractingly toned arm muscles flexing to hold her in place.

“Sit still,” Shaw said quietly. “Or I’ll dump you in the fire.”

“I’m already hot for you, sweetie.”

Reese, Zoe, and Fusco reached the ring of chairs and couches near the fireplace and all basically collapsed.

“My feet hurt,” Fusco moaned.

“My feet hurt more.” Reese stretched his legs out with a pained expression.

“My feet are completely fine,” Zoe told both of them. “You two need to toughen up.”

Shaw chuckled and Root felt it vibrate through her chest.

“We should probably head back soon,” Fusco said. “Some of us have to work tomorrow.”

“What time is it?” Shaw asked. “Still feels early.”

Reese pulled his phone out. “Uh, just about to be midnight.” His face lit up. “Merry Christmas!”

Root leveled a flat glare at him and out of the corner of her eye saw Shaw do the same.

“Merry Christmas, John,” Zoe said. “Here.” She pulled out a santa hat that she’d somehow managed to stuff into her tiny purse. “I stole a hat for you from the party.”

“Please tell me you’re not actually going to wear that.” Shaw’s tone implied she was _deeply_ disappointed in his life choices.

“No, I’m going to cut little ear holes in it for Bear.”

“You're not getting that thing anywhere near my dog.”

Root smirked. If he really wanted to dress Bear up in adorable little hats he should have asked her. That was the sort of mission she could completely get behind. She wondered if she could find little nerdy dog hats. Shaw would _hate_ that.

They all fell silent for awhile, watching the fire. The Machine must have been feeling a bit bolder because She started playing music softly in Root’s ear, a song made up of many assorted melodies, all blending together.

“Did you ever hear from Dani again?” Zoe asked.

“She hasn’t shown up at the subway again or anything,” Reese said, “but she keeps trying to tail me. I think it’s really pissing her off that I keep losing her.”

“She’ll be back when she’s ready,” Fusco said. “Especially if wonder boy here keeps riling her up like that.”

Root must have fallen asleep around then because the next thing she remembered was Shaw nudging her awake.

“Time to head home.”

She nodded and regretfully got up off of Shaw and then offered her a hand up. After everything else that had happened today she shouldn’t have been shocked when Shaw actually let her give her a hand up, but she was. Shaw smoothed down the black dress Root had brought her (Root was pleased with her choice; it really did look fantastic on her) and pulled her shoes back on.

Reese had volunteered to ride back with Fusco so Root got to sit next to Shaw in Zoe’s car. The ride back was mostly quiet, and Zoe fell asleep halfway back. After they dropped her off they headed to the subway to go back to Shaw’s apartment.

“So was it worth all the fuss?” Shaw asked.

Root was pretty sure she hadn’t made a fuss at all, but fine. “I think it went very well. Though, I’m a bit disappointed we never got to have that little fling out in the stable.”

“I bet you are.” Shaw looked amused. “Well, it’s not _that_ late. I’m sure we can find some way to make up for it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

* * *

 

Root woke up the next morning with Shaw shaking her arm. She blinked a couple of times, trying to focus. It was way too early to be up and she didn’t think she’d been having a nightmare…..

“Sameen? What's wrong?”

“Hersh just called back. We need to go to Washington.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was trying to figure out what Fusco would sing (because he felt like the obvious choice as a singer) my friend reminded me that he canonically liked the Dixie Chicks. 'Goodbye Earl' was the only Dixie Chicks song I knew before writing this chapter...for anyone who hasn't heard it it's about a woman who murders her abusive husband with the help of her best friend and how no one gives a shit he's dead and their lives are great after. Sounded like something Root could get behind.
> 
> There was a further discussion of what everyone else would have sung and I suggested that Root would sing either 'I Touch Myself' by the Divinyls or 'Dancing in Circles' by Lady Gaga and just stare at Shaw the entire time. Reese would be facepalming and Shaw would be contemplating murder but probably also be a bit turned on. If Reese had to sing...he would just do his awkward smile and pass the fuck out. I can't remember what we settled on Shaw singing...she'd probably be amazingly good though and Root would have to take a cold shower.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [Cravate Noir](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/27494343) rated E.


	38. Christmas in Washington

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit longer to write than I thought it would. Sorry about that. Also isn't edited quite as much as I'd like, but I really wanted to post it tonight.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Root dug her spoon into the cup of soft serve ice cream she'd bought for herself in the dingy little rest stop they were currently pulled over at somewhere off I-95. They were a bit over two hours into their drive to DC, and they'd only stopped here because Shaw wanted coffee. Since Shaw was stuck in a truly ludicrous line for some Starbucks ripoff (she'd said that the coffee there was overpriced and gross but slightly less likely to burn a hole in her stomach lining than the fare at the fast food joints) Root waited with Reese, both of them leaning against a wall next to a row of toy capsule vending machines.

Root was graciously pretending not to notice Reese eyeing the machine that had little plastic dog figures in it and in return he hadn't commented on the fact she was eating m&m covered ice cream at 10am.

“What's on your mind, John?” Whenever he wanted permission to ask a question it either meant it was something he felt awkward about or it was a topic he thought would bother her, but she hadn't slept enough last night and the little bits and pieces of rest she'd caught in between Shaw and Reese fighting over what music to listen to had only made her more groggy.

On top of that, the horrible yellow lighting and bleak architecture of the rest stop were bugging her. She'd spent way too much of her life in transitory spaces like this: rest stops, airports, bus stations, waiting rooms, motel rooms. Always passing through in a timeless haze, never _being_ , never belonging. It hadn't used to bother her, but right now it did and she could use a distraction.

“It's about the Machine.”

“I'm shocked. I thought for sure you were going to ask where Shaw got that mark on her neck.”

Reese made a slightly choked sound. “You know that now I'm not going to be able to not notice that until it goes away, don't you?”

“Oh, I know.” She went to dig out another spoonful of ice cream but had to try several times to get the correct candy-to-ice-cream ratio on her spoon.

“Thanks a bunch.” He cast another glance at the vending machines. “The Machine is...different from the way she was when I started working for her.”

“That's not a question.” She tore her gaze away from her ice cream to check up on Shaw. She was still stuck in line, but she'd been looking over at them. At Root.

So busted.

Root grinned at her and Shaw shook her head and turned away.

“Sorry, John, what was that?” She'd been distracted and missed what he'd said.

“I asked if the Machine would kill people to protect us? If she could?”

Root hesitated. She trusted Reese, but he had this internal conflict about the Machine that sometimes made her a little anxious. If Harold ever came back, how would that all turn out? Would John take his side and try to kill the Machine?

And what would Shaw do?

“I'm not sure about killing, but I think if there were no other possibilities She might let someone die.” She didn't want to lie to him.

“Doesn't that worry you at all?”

“Not particularly.” She could appreciate being willing to kill to protect things that mattered. “Wouldn't you kill someone to protect Shaw? Or Fusco, or Zoe?”

He nodded. “Or you.”

She refocused on her ice cream and then continued as if he hadn't said anything. “How is one of us protecting the others different from Her doing the same thing?”

“We couldn't wipe out the entire human race.” He frowned. “Probably.”

“She told me you two had a chat. Do you really think She'd do that?” She knew that he'd been struggling with this for quite some time now and she was glad he was thinking and asking about it, but she also wished he'd saved this conversation for a time when she wasn't half asleep. She _did_ need a distraction, but maybe a less complicated one.

“No, but…” He shuffled a bit, adjusting his lean against the wall. “Back when Decima took Finch, she couldn't have done some of the stuff she does now, right?”

Root chewed on her plastic spoon a second before answering. “No, She couldn't have. If you're asking if some of the safeguards Harold put in place are gone, I think you already know the answer.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“And yet the human race is still here. The most devious thing She's done lately is force us all to go to a wedding that everyone mostly enjoyed.”

In her ear the Machine was playing the music she'd come to think of as Reese's theme. It was often a bit melancholy, but there were some lighter moments in it, quick modulations to a major key. It was...peaceful music.

“So she's completely free now?”

“Not even close. There's still a lot She can't do, and direct interference is usually impossible for Her.”

She looked up to check on Shaw. In the hazy unreality that seemed to be the status quo of all rest stops everywhere, Shaw looked completely out of place. Too firmly planted in time and space for a place like this.

From the corner of her eye she saw John watching her closely.

“What would you do…?” He trailed off and she felt a cold knot in her stomach. She knew what he was about to ask. “What would you do if something happened to the Machine?”

The look she gave him made him back up and bump into the nearest vending machine. “I didn't mean it like that.” He looked apologetic and then dug around in his pocket to pull out a handful of paper napkins. “You've got ice cream on your face.”

Of course John Reese, the fearsome assassin, had thought to get napkins for her while she was ordering. She relaxed a little and took them from him.

“She had a close call recently and Samaritan is still out there,” he clarified. “And you're….” He paused, searching for the right words. “You're very close to her.”

“I'm not naive, John. I know the risks. To all of us.” She looked over at Shaw again who had finally ordered and was waiting impatiently for her drink.

“And you'd die to protect her.” It wasn't a question.

“Of course.” That had been true since the first time she'd heard Her voice. Maybe even before.

“What about Shaw?”

“Obviously her, too.” How was that even a question?

“No, I meant, if you died. What about Shaw?”

“Oh.” Shaw had to look up at her right then, didn't she? There was a little frown on her face like she could tell they were discussing something serious. “I don't have all the answers, you know, and neither does She. But I'll do what it takes to keep them both safe.” It wasn't a satisfying answer for either of them.

“You're one to talk, though,” Root continued after a moment. “How many times now have you almost died while protecting someone?”

Reese shrugged. “I'm not saying I wouldn't, just that maybe it's not the only option I see anymore.”

Root wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she didn't.

Shaw finally had her drink and was coming back towards them. Root was torn between relief that the conversation was over and a sudden guilty uneasiness around Shaw.

“You two look super cheerful,” Shaw said. She looked at Root's partially crushed styrofoam ice cream cup. “You're eating ice cream for breakfast and you still look like someone just died.”

Root turned away under the pretense of throwing out the cup.

“Think we're all tired,” Reese said and she was deeply grateful for his deflection.

They were halfway across the parking lot when Reese said he'd forgotten something and hurried back inside.

“What's up with you two?” Shaw asked as they reached the car. “I don't want to be stuck in a car full of moping the whole way down. Especially since it's Reese’s ‘turn’ to drive.” She'd made it clear earlier that turns weren't a thing she believed in. All of the turns were her turns.

“Nothing's up. A little worried about the future maybe.”

“Ah.” Shaw leaned against the car, her breath misting in the cold air.

“Would you…” Root stopped herself. Shaw had told her to ask, but somehow she couldn't.

“Would I what?” Shaw elbowed her when she didn't answer.

“Nevemind.”

“You want shotgun?”

“No.” It would have been a stupid thing to ask for and after her conversation with Reese she didn't feel like she had the right to ask for anything.

Shaw sighed. “I'm not playing twenty questions. Whatever it is, either ask or don't.”

Root shut her mouth firmly and didn't say anything else even when Reese got back. Empty-handed. Had he just needed the bathroom or something?

She climbed in the backseat and looked at the uneven seats with distaste. Her neck was still sore from the last two hours. She’d never fully recovered from how much she'd run herself down over the past year and with the new code they'd gotten she was right back on her old sleep schedule. Though that was…. She pushed aside the thoughts that had been weighing on her all morning.

When Shaw climbed in the front, she turned around to look at her, eyebrow raised. Root only shook her head and lay down. She curled up as much as she could and shut her eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Why are we in the middle of suburbia hell?” Shaw asked, steering the car slowly around a corner.

“This is where She told me to go.” Root had claimed shotgun the last time they'd stopped to switch drivers and was staring out the window at the passing scenery.

The houses here were all cookie-cutter similar, painted different colors for the illusion of variety. There were actual white picket fences and every single driveway appeared to have the same damn car in it. Shaw wondered if they'd inadvertently stumbled onto the set of a horror film.

“Three blocks and then take a left.”

The Machine was talking to Root more regularly today which only made it harder for Shaw to determine the source of her bad mood. Whatever her and Reese had actually been talking about was only part of it; Root had been fine when she'd woken up, but had been strangely distracted when they'd left the apartment an hour and a half later. She'd been on her laptop most of that time so maybe whatever was going on was related to the Machine.

“Do you think Hersh has a white picket fence?” Reese asked from the backseat. “Maybe some bright-eyed, curly-haired kids running in the yard?”

There was a brief silence in the car while everyone tried to picture that.

“Hersh isn't married, no kids. Pretty sure.” Shaw had an image in her mind of Hersh in a frilly apron, baking a pie. She wanted very badly for that image to go away and never come back.

“She says he likes gardening. When the ground isn’t frozen solid, anyway.” Root finally looked away from the window with a small smile. “Do you think he uses corpses to fertilize his flower bed?”

“Knowing Hersh it’s a distinct possibility,” Shaw said. “Never did like to be wasteful.”

Much to her relief they moved into the next neighborhood which had slightly older and more distinct houses. They were still a little too normal for her to imagine Hersh living in one, but it was an improvement.

“Can't believe Hersh wants us knowing where he lives,” Reese said.

“The Machine overruled his objections.” Root was focused out the window again, tapping her fingers lightly against the glass. “Control must have really wanted our help, and Hersh went to a lot of effort to make his house and yard free from Samaritan’s eyes. Or as close as possible. Made it the ideal meeting place.”

“Besides,” Shaw said, “guy like Hersh will just burn the place down and salt the earth after we leave. He probably already has his next four houses picked out.”

None of them were completely sure what to expect when they arrived. When Hersh had called, he'd told Shaw that things were about to become very serious in DC and that any backup they could provide would be appreciated. She'd told him she'd think about it and then, after hanging up, had casually asked her phone what it thought about all this.

She'd gotten a text from an unlisted number that had said: ‘Help them.’ And then after she sat there scowling at the message for a few seconds, she'd gotten a second text that said: ‘Please.’

At that point she'd rolled her eyes and gone to wake up Root so she could deal with her taciturn AI buddy before Shaw went down to the subway and ‘accidentally’ unplugged her for being enigmatic.

Not that Root had gotten much more out of her. Apparently the situation was ‘still developing’ so there was no way to be sure what they were walking into. But what she _had_ told Root was that Samaritan now definitely knew that she hadn't been destroyed and that its agents had moved against some of the members of the ISA who were still loyal to Control.

“That one.” Root pointed at a thoroughly nondescript house coming up on the right.

Shaw parked on the street and looked over what she assumed to be Hersh’s house. It still looked a bit too...domestic for how she imagined him, but it was also the most boring house on the block. He'd probably put a lot of effort into that.

“Let's go see who's home, I guess.”

Reese joined her on the sidewalk, but Root stayed in the car. Through the window Shaw could see her lips moving. She tapped on the glass and made a questioning face. Root waved a finger vaguely at her own ear and then made a shooing gesture.

“Guess she's glad to have the Machine back full time,” Reese said as the headed up the almost-meticulous front walk.

“Don't suppose _you_ wanna tell me what had you both in such a great mood earlier?”

“I don't think it's my place to talk about that,” he said carefully.

Shaw sighed in irritation. “Whatever this is better not bite me in the ass.”

Reese grimaced. “Yeah, I really hope it doesn't.”

They paused at the top of the steps and regarded the door with suspicion.

“Do you think knocking or ringing the bell is more likely to set off whatever death trap he inevitably has rigged up?” Reese asked.

“They probably each set off different ones.” Shaw let out a long breath and then kicked the door a couple times.

Nothing blew up or shot out at them but they had to stand shivering in the cold for several minutes before the door finally opened a crack.

“Hey, Hersh,” Reese said. He almost managed a convincing smile.

“Reese. Shaw.” Hersh looked back and forth between them.

“Uh, can we come in now?” Shaw asked after a few awkward and cold seconds rolled by.

Hersh scowled but stepped aside to let them inside. Shaw stopped right inside the door and threw out her arm to halt Reese as well.

“What?” Hersh asked her, looking cross. “Don't like my living room?”

It was a fairly tasteful living room, she'd give him that. Minimalistic, but the couch looked comfortable. The only thing hanging on the wall was a framed black and white photo of a german shepard.

“No, the living room is...surprisingly nice,” she said. “Just don't want to get a crossbow bolt in the face.”

“Oh.” Hersh’s scowl eased up a bit. “Don't open any of the windows or closed doors and you should be fine. Also cabinets. And the refrigerator. And…. Just try not to touch anything.”

She exchanged a look with Reese. Well, she'd take Hersh’s death-trap house over the Turner’s estate any day of the week, so it was an improvement from the previous day.

“And take your shoes off. You'll scuff the floor.”

Reese made a tiny noise that was either a restrained laugh or a confused whimper. Hersh, Shaw noted, was only wearing socks on his feet. They appeared to have reindeer printed on them, which...she was going to ignore that. Stuff like this was why agents didn't share their personal lives with each other.

Though the seasonal-ness of his socks reminded her of what day it was. Somehow with everything that had happened she'd forgotten it was Christmas. That explained how light the traffic had been.

“Where's the last member of your party?” Hersh asked as they took their shoes off.

Fortunately Reese wasn't wearing candy cane socks or something dumb like that. She'd half-expected him to be.

“In the car, talking to her electronic better half.”

“Her electronic…” Hersh trailed off and regarded her with a slightly perplexed expression before glancing out the window towards the car.

She could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he tried to figure out how all of them fit together and when he gave up and removed it all from his memory.

“What's this all about, Hersh?” Reese asked as they followed him more into the living room.

Hersh motioned for them to sit anywhere but they both stood still, eyeing the furniture suspiciously.

“The couch isn't going to kill you,” Hersh said, sitting down in an armchair. “The chairs are all fine, too. In here, anyway.”

Shaw sat cautiously on the edge of the couch and Reese took another armchair.

Right as Hersh was about to start explaining things, the doorbell rang. When Hersh opened the door he stepped way back out of the way to let Root enter and watched her distrustfully as she took her shoes off (without being told) and made her way over to plop down on the couch next to Shaw.

She looked like she was in a better mood now, all sappy smiles and easy body language. Shaw wondered if her talk with the Machine had helped or if this was another act. Usually she could spot the difference, but there was something a bit off with her today.

Root had chosen to sit right next to her so their sides were just touching, and one of her hands wandered over so she could hook a single finger over the edge of Shaw's pants pocket. She'd done that yesterday at the wedding as well, so maybe it was a new thing. Like a less intrusive form of hand holding. It didn't bother Shaw, especially since Hersh had already been lucky enough to get a front row seat to them making out in the basement at that party.

And the stock exchange, of course.

They all sat there quietly for a minute: Shaw and Root squeezed into less than half the couch, Reese in his armchair peering around as if expecting a vengeful crossbow bolt to come flying out of the woodwork, and Hersh scowling in his reindeer socks.

It was fucking ridiculous.

“So someone tried to kill you, I hear?” Shaw asked to try and move things along.

“Yes. Broke in while I was at work.” Hersh pointed at a dark stain on his carpet. “That's never coming out.”

Reese nodded sympathetically. “I hate when that happens.”

Next to Shaw, Root made a noise that might have been a restrained giggle. Shaw sighed. Neither of them was helping here.

“Why’s Samaritan trying to kill you now of all times?” she asked.

“Probably because we're getting ready to cut ties with them. Bastards must have found out somehow.” He narrowed his eyes. “Surprised you didn't know that already.” He gestured at Root.

Shaw turned to look at her. Root had produced a pen from somewhere and was twirling it between the fingers of her free hand. She shook her head a tiny amount at the question in Shaw’s eyes. She hadn't known.

They were going to have a talk about this later, but in front of Hersh wasn't the right place.

“Pretend we're completely ignorant and fill us in,” Shaw said, shoving her annoyance aside. Why hadn't the Machine let them know?

“We'd started looking into what it would take to oust Samaritan that day I called you,” Hersh said. “Didn't fully commit until yesterday. Holidays, you know. Less people around, easier to talk.”

“It found out fast, then,” Reese said. “Tried to kill you the same day you started planning.”

“Yes, though that was also the day Rousseau and Lambert showed up. A lot happened in one day.”

“Are they still around?” Root asked, voice overly casual.

“Rousseau is. Haven't seen the other one since the first day.”

Shaw got the sinking feeling she was going to have to drag Root off of Martine again. Maybe she could find the aggravating Samaritan agent and shoot her before that happened.

“Control has built up a good bit of support within Congress,” Hersh continued. “Also some other key government members are on our side. We've got our allies heavily guarded until we can get all the paperwork and such through. The idea is to have all Samaritan personnel off the premises by sundown tomorrow. They still have a good bit of support, though, and a lot of agents in the area. And they know something is up.”

“You think they're going to start an all-out war in DC?” Reese asked.

“Seems a bit too overt a move for Samaritan,” Shaw agreed. Root shifted next to her on the couch, a small frown creasing her brow.

“More worried they're going to vanish people, threaten their families, that sort of thing,” Hersh explained. “We're stretched thin protecting everyone.”

“You want us to, what? Babysit some politicians and their kids?” Shaw asked. Sounded dull.

“Not at all. We wanted you to raid a couple of their personnel facilities. Wipe them off the map.”

“Oh.” Shaw exchanged a glance with Reese. “Uh, that's not really….” She felt silly telling Hersh that they tried not to kill people. He'd probably laugh at her, if laughing was a thing he was actually capable of.

“The Machine prefers us to use non-lethal means to finish Her missions,” Root said. There was something about her posture that made Shaw suspect that even if the Machine wasn't talking through her right now, she was at least heavily invested in the conversation.

“Really?” Hersh looked befuddled. “We kill people all the time.”

“She knows the facilities you mean,” Root said. “What you really want is a distraction, right? Hit them hard so they focus on us rather than your pet politicians.”

Shaw had been pretty sure that was where he'd been headed with this.

“Sounds like a suicide mission,” she said. There was no way she was getting them all killed for the sake of some rich politician types.

“The buildings in question will be mostly empty at the time. They house a lot of agents, but most of them are out in the field during the day. The idea is your lot goes in, makes a mess, and then burns rubber off to the next location.” Hersh seemed confident in his plan.

“Won't work,” Shaw said and was pleased to see she'd just beaten Root to saying it. “Samaritan will know it's a distraction and ignore it.” She looked at Root. “Maybe there's something they won't ignore that we could target?”

Root had her head tilted to one side, listening. “There's a facility on actual government property that houses a lot of hardware for Samaritan, but that wouldn't be optimal for any of us. However, there _is_ Samaritan’s main base of operations in the area, a big office building an hour or two away from here. Probably where Lambert and Martine are if they're around.”

“There is?” Hersh looked angry. “Why haven't any of the agents I have trailing them ever found it?”

“Because Samaritan didn't want them to.” Shaw was a bit exasperated. How many other things had the ISA missed by underestimating their enemy? “Place is probably a fortress, though. Right, Root?”

“It's about the same as the place we broke into to get the code.”

“Because that ended _so_ well.” Shaw didn't think the Machine faking her own death would work twice.

“It's the best option we have.” Root was focused on the pen in her hand; her distracted look from the morning had returned.

“We have the option to get back in the car, go back to New York, and let the government figure out their own shit.”

“Sameen--” Root finally looked at her. “--I don't think that's an option anymore.”

Shaw took in the others: Reese sitting stiffly in his chair, deeply invested even if he wasn't actively contributing, and Hersh focused on everything they were saying.

“I need to talk to my team privately for a moment,” she said, standing up. Root's hand fell away from her pocket. “Outside.”

Hersh didn't object as the other two followed her out, pulling their coats back on as they went down the two steps to the frozen lawn.

Shaw stopped them about halfway down the front walk. “Okay, Root, spill.”

Root sighed. “I wasn’t sure until this morning, Sameen. I swear.”

“Sure about what?” Reese asked.

“The code that the Machine and I have been working on? It's done.” Root was smiling but she didn't look very happy. “I knew it was close, but I didn't think it was really finished. She was going over it while we were out yesterday and signed off on it this morning.”

Shaw couldn't think of a single response. Root had been working on that damn thing for over half a year now; it had always felt like a far off solution for someday, and now Root was telling her it was done. They could finally go after Samaritan.

She couldn't quite wrap her mind around everything that entailed, yet. Especially not standing here in the middle of suburbia surrounded by houses with garish holiday decorations polluting their yards. Something about the giant inflatable Santa in the next yard over made the whole situation impossible to grasp.

“And we need to kill Samaritan’s support in the government before we go after it directly,” Reese said. He looked a bit shaken as well.

“It will definitely improve our odds.” Root was scuffing the toe of one boot on the walk, eyes locked to the ground.

Shaw had an entire novel's worth of questions to ask about what they could do now that the code was done, and she suddenly understood why Root hadn't mentioned it.

“One thing at a time,” she said carefully. “Let's deal with this mess here before we start worrying about the next step. Okay?” They could talk about this when they were back somewhere more normal.

Root nodded. “She really wants us to find a way to help here. Not only to save lives, but to give the next part a better chance of success.” She still hadn't looked up.

“And this building you were talking about, their local headquarters? She thinks we can stage a hit on this place without getting killed?”

“She wanted your opinion on it, actually,” Root said. She finally gave up on kicking the ground to death and headed towards the car. “I can pull up all the information She has on the place on my laptop.”

Shaw shot Reese a look before following Root to the car. Wisely, he stayed behind, shivering by himself on the front walk.

“You up for this?” Shaw asked as Root leaned into the backseat to pull her laptop bag out.

Root stayed silent until she resurfaced from the car. “I've been working on it for so long and.…” She stopped herself and met Shaw's eyes. “Can we talk about it later? For this part, right now, I'm fine.”

Shaw took the laptop bag from her. “You sure?”

That got a little half-smile out of Root and she reached out to tuck an escaped strand of hair behind Shaw's ear. “I'm sure.”

“Let's go make a plan then.”

Root's news kept rattling around in the back of her head as they worked out the details over the next few hours. She didn't know quite how to process it; part-relief, part-trepidation maybe. And now that she and Reese both knew, Root seemed a little less weighed down. She even worked up enough energy to hunt down an actual fucking crossbow from somewhere in Hersh’s pantry and gleefully wave it around the living room while Hersh panicked.

Shaw still wasn't completely confident in their plan when they left hours later, but she thought they had a decent chance now.

 

* * *

 

“Root?”

Reese’s voice made her look up from the depths of her glass of water. The Machine had been jazzing up the hideous elevator music the diner they were in was playing and she'd gotten lost in enjoying Her antics. Apparently She now disapproved of boring and unoriginal music and saw it as Her mission to improve it. Root made a note to ask Her at some point if She had a favorite artist.

“What's up, big lug?” It'd been a long time since she'd last called him that and it got a smile out of him.

The little diner was almost empty and possibly one of the only places open on Christmas. The bright holiday lights hanging outside glowed through the windows next to them and cast the dark parking lot in colors.

Shaw was up at the front counter for...Root couldn't remember why she'd gotten up, and Reese was sitting across from her at the table with a mildly concerned expression.

“You should finish that,” he said, motioning at her barely touched omelette. It had been sitting there awhile and was probably gross and cold now.

“All yours.” She nudged the plate towards him.

“That's not what…. You should eat something real.”

“I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thanks.” She knew he was trying to help, but she didn't like getting fussed over.

“Actually, you're really fucking terrible at it.” Shaw had returned and dumped a plate with a piece of pie on it in front of her. “This cost me like three dollars, so you'd better eat it.”

Okay, so maybe Shaw was allowed to fuss a little. But only because she managed to pull it off without being pitying or patronizing.

“What time should we take off at tomorrow?” Shaw asked as she scooted back into the booth next to Root. She'd gotten herself a much larger slice of pie. “Five am, maybe?”

Root made a face. That sounded like a horrible time.

“Sounds good to me,” Reese said, shooting her an apologetic look. How had she ended up on a team full of early risers?

Hersh had said the ISA could handle things overnight, but they needed to move early tomorrow. Excruciatingly early.

She picked at her slice of pie a bit, but really wasn't feeling hungry. Now that the others knew how close they were to really finishing this once and for all it seemed too real, too soon. There were so many unknown variables and potential outcomes; both she and the Machine were awash in a sea of possibilities and probabilities. And too many of the options ended poorly.

“...Control had better fucking appreciate this,” Shaw was saying.

“You want her to throw us a parade?” Reese was slowly spinning his coffee mug around in his hands.

“Maybe a formal apology for _killing_ me. Like in front of the rest of the ISA. There could be a medal involved.” Shaw was mostly joking, Root could tell, though the resentment about the whole being killed thing was pretty real. Understandably.

“Oh.” Reese sat up suddenly and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a little plastic capsule and slid it across the table to Shaw who eyed it suspiciously.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with a plastic dog?” she asked after staring at it for a second.

“This one looks like Bear.” Reese seemed pleased with himself.

Root wondered how many quarters he'd put into that stupid machine at the rest stop to get the right dog.

“This is a Christmas present, isn't it?” Shaw sounded offended.

“For all you know I would’ve gotten it for you no matter what day it was.”

Root bit her lip to keep from smiling. Shaw was openly furious and John looked so proud of himself. She wished she could get a picture without them noticing.

But she should probably stop Shaw from throttling John first. He was lucky she liked him.

She kicked Shaw in leg and exchanged a quick look with her. Shaw let out an exasperated sigh. She popped open the little capsule and pulled the plastic dog out.

“It does look a bit like Bear, I guess.”

John beamed. Shaw still looked grumpy, but Root saw her tuck the toy into her pocket later.

They left the diner after Shaw finished her pie (and half of Root's) and headed back to the car to drive to the hotel they'd booked rooms in. Shaw grabbed Reese's arm when he went around to get in the back and said something to him that Root couldn't hear.

“You catch that?” she asked Her quietly. The Machine didn't respond and Root sulked a bit. It was no fun when everyone else had secrets without her.

“You and Reese plotting something I need to know about?” she asked Shaw when they got into their room at the hotel. She'd managed to hold off her curiosity for the entire twenty minute drive. Probably a record for her.

Shaw was giving the room a once-over, as if she expected hidden Samaritan cameras behind the curtains.

“I told him to shoot to kill if he saw Martine,” Shaw said, letting the curtain go.

That definitely hadn't been what Root had anticipated. “Martine? Why?”

“Because--” Shaw finished her sweep of the room. “--she's shot both of us, and you have a personal vendetta against her that almost got you killed.” She dropped her bag on the floor. “Also she might have a personal vendetta against us.” She turned to flash a quick grin at Root. “Also I want her dead, too.”

The first reason had made Root stiffen a little, but the second two made her relax again.

“I’m not going to go running off after her again,” she said, putting her own bag down next to Shaw's. She'd promised her.

“Good. Shoot her if you get a shot, make it clean and certain, move on.”

Root sat down on the edge of the bed with a bounce. “Yes, ma'am.” She flipped Shaw a lazy salute that earned her an eye roll.

“I'm taking a shower.” Shaw had a clean change of clothes pulled out already. “Wash off the car trip and whatever the fuck that smell in Hersh’s house was.”

The whole house had been infused with a vaguely floral smell.

“Want company?” She always offered and, even if it wasn't the top thing on her mind at the moment, she'd never turn down a chance for shower sex with Shaw.

Shaw looked her over. “I'm only taking a quick shower, but suit yourself.”

Root tried to keep the surprise off her face. Shared showers had always been exclusively about sex for them, with things like cleaning tacked onto the end as an unavoidable afterthought. Showers were usually a time to think, talk to the Machine, or stare at a wall and let her mind go blank.

Shaw shrugged and headed to the bathroom without her, but Root followed her quickly, uncertain but curious.

It was...odd taking a shower with someone just for the sake of showering. She got to watch Shaw massage the cheap hotel shampoo into her own hair and shiver a little when she wasn't directly under the stream of water. It was a very different type of intimacy than she was used to, but not necessarily bad. Several times she caught Shaw watching her with a curious expression, like she couldn't quite figure out how they'd ended up there together.

It was hard not to constantly touch Shaw, both because of the limited space and the entire atmosphere of the warm shower and the steam wrapping around them. It wasn’t even about sex (well, not _only_ sex); everything right now was so uncertain, precarious, and she felt more off balance than she had in quite some time. Shaw lived so firmly in the present moment that she felt a little like an anchor (or maybe closer to a tether) for Root.

She kept her hands to herself, though. Mostly.

“Okay?” she asked when they were wrapping themselves in towels.

“Different,” Shaw said with a head tilt.

“Different bad?”

“Different new.”

Root chuckled. “Know what you mean.”

That got the little smile from Shaw she only used when they were alone together.

They took turns with the crappy hair dryer, only making half-hearted efforts before heading back out into the main room.

They finished getting ready for bed separately and Root took the time to talk to the Machine quietly, double-check on Her thoughts about the next day and ignore Her comments about a healthy diet being more than ice cream and half a slice of pie.

When Root finished in the bathroom a little later she slipped on a shirt which had a human heart melded into what looked like a circuit board. Shaw eyed it suspiciously for a minute and then shrugged.

“Circulatory system, but with circuits, right? I actually like that one, but nice try.”

“You like all of them,” Root told her walking over to put her hands on Shaw's arms. “Admit it.”

Shaw scoffed at her. “No. Some of them are awful, and you know it.”

“Some of them really are.” Even she couldn't deny that.

She released her and climbed into bed, tired despite their relatively relaxed day. When Shaw joined her a few minutes later she didn't get under the covers, but sat cross-legged on top facing her. Root propped herself up a little, getting that Shaw wanted to say something.

“The code being done and all that,” Shaw said when she saw she had her attention, “you want to talk that through now or wait til we're done here?”

“Let's wait, unless you'd rather talk now.” She didn't want to dwell on it too much until she had to.

“When we get back to the city,” Shaw agreed easily. She picked at the covers for a second, composing her thoughts. “That the only thing that's been off with you all day? You and Reese got all serious when we stopped.”

Shaw’d been picking up on stuff like that a lot. It was kind of endearing but also made her feel a little exposed. “No, but…” She couldn't tell Shaw about that conversation. Asking what she'd do if Root...didn't make it would have been cruel. “It's something I need to figure out on my own.”

Shaw nodded. “Okay.”

And that was it. She got under the covers and didn't press the issue anymore. She moved a little into Root's space but waited for her to close the distance and Root had to stop and wonder at how much their roles had flipped since the start of all this. Somewhere they'd gone from her nudging into Shaw's space to Shaw tentatively inviting her in.

She rolled over and fit herself in up against Shaw, head resting on her chest. Shaw repositioned her a bit so she was comfortable and then tucked Root's head under her chin.

“Are you ever gonna ask me whatever it was you didn't ask at the rest stop this morning?” Shaw asked.

Root had forgotten about that. “It was silly.”

“When has _that_ ever stopped you before?”

Root smiled against her skin but stayed silent. Shaw poked her in the side with one finger. Root gave a little snort of laughter but still didn't say anything. At this point her silence was mostly to aggravate Shaw.

“Ugh. Root, just tell me.”

Root relented.

“The backseat was really uncomfortable.”

“I offered you shotgun.”

“I know, but what I really needed was a pillow. Or a spare lap to use as one.”

Shaw huffed out of a breath. “Really? That was it?” Root felt her shake her head. “Yeah, alright, that's pretty silly.”

“I told you it was.”

“Well, maybe if you don't do anything spectacularly dumb on the mission tomorrow and you actually _ask_ on the way back….”

“Hmm, I'll keep it in mind.”

Shaw passed out a few seconds later and Root followed her shortly after, the Machine playing music in one ear and Shaw's heartbeat in her other.

 

* * *

 

Shaw couldn't fall back asleep. She'd woken up abruptly in the dark hotel room over half an hour ago and had been lying awake staring at the ceiling since. Root had shifted off of her at some point and was sprawled on her back, face angled slightly towards Shaw, and one hand resting palm up, fingers gently curled next to her head on the pillow.

She watched Root sleep for a little bit, storing away the images without intent or purpose. At what point did watching someone sleep become creepy? Did the Machine keep a record of weird things like that? Did she tell Root about stuff like this?

Thinking about the Machine gave her an idea. She carefully climbed out of bed, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and headed to the balcony doors. Their room was nice enough that it had a small private balcony, equipped with a chair and table. She shoved on her shoes and coat and opened the balcony doors as quietly as she could. She shut the doors behind her before dropping into the chair. There was an ashtray on the table and she propped her phone up on it.

“You awake?”

_Yes._

The answer was almost instantaneous, text appearing on her phone screen as if it were a blank monitor.

“Dumb question, I guess. Must suck to not be able to sleep. You're missing out.”

_Sleep would be wasteful for me._

“I hope you don't say shit like that to Root. She’s already awful at the whole sleeping bit. Doesn't need encouragement.”

She thought back to the night the Machine had sent her to the subway when nightmares had woken Root up. She’d found her curled up next to the Machine’s servers, basically incoherent. It was hard to yell at her for not sleeping when stuff like that kept happening.

She wondered what the Machine did when Root had nightmares while she was out on a mission, on the other side of the world from Shaw. Since Shaw had never had a nightmare herself she didn’t completely understand what it felt like, could only infer it from Root’s reactions. Would the Machine have any idea what it was like?

“Can AI dream?” She felt silly the minute she asked.

_Yes, but only about electric sheep._

Shaw blinked once or twice. “Was that a joke?”

_It was a reference to a book._

It sounded like a really nerdy book. Typical.

_Did you wish to ask me something, Shaw?_

“Maybe.” She was having a hard time framing her thoughts in her mind.

_Is it about the code being finished?_

“No, though we're definitely having a discussion about that _very_ soon.” The amount of moping Root was doing spoke to whatever plan they had come up with not being very likely to succeed. Or ending with someone's death. Which sort of led to her actual question.

“Root once said you cared about us because you chose to. I don't…. I mean, I understand what Root meant by that, but she's a hopeless romantic sap. But, uh, how does that actually work?”

She felt uncomfortable the minute she asked, like her skin was a bit too tight or itchy. She wasn’t even sure why she’d thought about asking. A slight wind blew across the balcony and she shivered despite herself. It was way too cold to be outside. Why had she thought this was a good idea?

_There are multiple parts to that answer. To ensure you do not develop frostbite, I will simplify._

“Nothing's ever simple with you, is it?”

_If it were a simple question, you would not have asked._

Shaw scowled. She had her there.

“Fine. Go for it.”

_The most evident form of what you would call caring that I am capable of is acting to prevent harm coming to an asset._

“Yeah, but your whole deal is preventing harm. To everyone.” She pulled her legs up to her chest for warmth. “Though I guess you've shown you're willing to prioritize us over others in certain circumstances.”

_Only when no other options are necessary._

“Alright, what else?”

The Machine’s next answer was a block of text. Shaw grabbed her phone and held it in front of her knees so she could read easier.

_As an entity built off of data I have the capacity to delete anything I wish from my own systems. For most information this would be useless since I would reabsorb it anyway. But if I had to delete data for some reason, I would delete most other things before I deleted any information about my assets._

“So for you, caring is a matter of prioritizing?”

_Yes._

Shaw mulled that over. It made a certain type of sense to her. Caring about someone was making an effort, giving a damn. For most people it seemed like the prioritization that happened was something they didn’t have to think about, driven by an internal compass she'd never had. But from what she understood, the Machine was incapable of having subconscious thoughts. When she chose to prioritize one of them she did it based on some machine logic, code.

There were no whimsical reasons for either Shaw or the Machine to take an interest in Root, but they both had. And they’d both chosen to keep taking an interest. Maybe it was this method of prioritization that appealed to Root.

_Does that sufficiently answer your question?_

Shaw nodded, figuring the Machine was probably watching through the camera on her phone. She had a new question now, though.

“Why Root?”

_Why do I prioritize Root?_

“Yeah. You’re a fancy AI. You could probably have had your pick of interfaces.”

_Root’s unpredictable nature makes her invaluable to me. AIs work off logic, patterns, averages, but she operates well outside the margin of error. I have spent an enormous amount of time observing her and even I cannot predict everything she will do. Imagine how frustrating that must be for Samaritan._

It was a good answer in that it made sense, but it wasn’t satisfying.

“She’s useful to you. That’s it?”

_Admin always doubted his decision to create me. The ISA used me as a tool. I have spent a lot of time over the years running simulations to determine my value to the world. To calculate if I am worth the risk. She always believed I was. That information changed the available starting conditions in my simulations. Allowed for more positive outcomes._

Shaw didn’t respond, shivering silently in her chair.

_You are trying to understand the logic that led you to care about Root._

An almost gleeful smile spread across Shaw's face. “And Root keeps claiming you're never wrong.” She savored the moment. “My questions were only about you. You and Root.”

_My mistake._

She wondered if AI could sulk.

The thing was, she felt like she had a pretty good understanding of how she and Root worked, how they fit together, but there were still parts of Root's relationship with the Machine she didn't fully understand.

And now the code was done, the final fight with Samaritan loomed ever closer, and with the way Root was acting their odds were probably fairly shit. All of which meant understanding had suddenly become more important. Because if something happened to her, the Machine would have to take care of Root on her own.

And if neither she nor the Machine made it...well, she'd keep thinking about that.

_Root is awake._

Shaw glanced over her shoulder towards the doors. “Nightmare?”

_No, but she was concerned you were gone. I informed her that you were out here and fine, but there is a very high likelihood she will come here if you do not return soon._

“Wouldn't want her to freeze her fingers off,” Shaw agreed. “I'd never hear the end of it.”

Root didn't say anything when she slipped back in the room and shrugged out of her coat and shoes. She did yelp slightly in protest when Shaw stuck her cold feet up against her leg. Since Root was usually the one guilty of sneaking into bed late with freezing hands and feet it felt like fair payback.

Root rolled over a little closer to her and blinked sleepily. “Everything okay?”

“Needed some fresh air.”

“Mmmm.” Root's eyes were drooping shut again, but she found enough energy to shuffle over and curl up against Shaw like a human space heater, one hand trailing up and down Shaw's back a few times before she drifted off.

Shaw finally fell back asleep a few minutes later.

 

* * *

 

“Well, that's ominous looking.” Reese took in the building that was Samaritan’s local base of operations, a massive brick building set back from the road behind a metal gate.

“I guess.” Shaw kept the car at a steady speed past it, headed away down the road.

“Does it need to be a secluded castle on a hill before you're impressed?”

“No, that would be really fucking lame.”

He expected Root to jump in with some comment (maybe something about Lambert wearing a cape), but she'd stayed quiet in the backseat the entire drive over. He turned to look over his shoulder at her to find her staring out the window towards the building with a smile on her face that sent chills down his spine. He could swear he heard her humming softly to herself over the sound of the engine.

Shaw turned onto a side street and pulled off the road. The area they were in was lightly wooded, and surprisingly sparse of buildings. It was actually a ways into Maryland and not in DC itself. It felt isolated, which was probably the point.

“She good?” he asked Shaw quietly as they pulled weapons out of the trunk.

Shaw leaned to the side to see around the trunk lid to where Root stood by the side of the road, looking back towards the Samaritan base. She still had that creepy little smile on and had her head tilted the way she did when the Machine spoke to her.

Shaw shrugged. “Looks fine to me.” She raised her voice. “I'm not bringing guns over to you, you know. Get them yourself.”

At Shaw's words Root shook herself slightly and came over to join them.

“She says they're still low on personnel today because of the holidays. A lot of people took the rest of the week off.”

It was weird to imagine Samaritan employees putting in time off requests. Too normal.

“Can I have a grenade, please?”

Shaw stared at Root with that look she got when she'd done something extra ridiculous. Root only smiled and batted her eyes and after a moment Shaw dug a grenade out of the trunk and slapped it into her hand.

“If you blow yourself or us up, I'm going to be pissed.”

“Me, too,” Reese added. He trusted Root but he’d been secretly hoping Shaw wouldn't give in to her request.

Root only kept smiling, looking far too eager for someone who'd just armed themselves with a disturbing amount of weaponry.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Shaw asked as she slammed the trunk.

“There was a plan?” Reese asked and this time he was the one Shaw glared at.

“Just kidding. I'm clear.” He probably shouldn't have teased, but usually Root would have made some sort of inappropriate joke by now to lighten the tension. He'd just been being helpful.

The area they'd parked in was on the edge of the treeline that stretched up to the edges of Samaritan’s property. They didn't have far to walk through the woods, but in that short amount of time he gained an appreciation for what Shaw had meant about Root’s inability to move silently in forests.

His face must have betrayed his amusement because Root turned her chilling smile full force onto him. He looked away, concentrating on moving quietly himself. Maybe he could give her some pointers later when she wasn't in full murder mode.

“Wait.” Root's voice made them freeze at the edge of the trees. “There's a guard inside on the second floor who's about to pass by the window across from us.”

They edged back a couple steps into the woods until she nodded that it was clear.

Shaw led the way to a door on the side of the building that was some sort of service entrance. There was definitely a camera focused on it, but while Samaritan got feeds from it, it didn't directly control it so the Machine had been able to spoof the feed without it knowing. They all tugged on ski masks anyway since sooner or later they'd be on a camera and it would be really dumb to blow their cover at this point.

The area they entered was a mixture of various support services for the building. No one was in the halls since it was technically too early to be at work. There was a mail room, janitor area, basic IT group, and a few other oddities. It was like someone had decided to push all the things they viewed as boring necessities into a relatively out of the way part of the building. Reese wondered if that had been Samaritan’s doing or someone like Greer’s. Maybe the people at the top of the food chain hated being reminded of their reliance on those they considered beneath them.

While no one was wandering about, there were definitely more cameras in the area, which meant they were on a clock now. Shaw led them around a corner and picked the lock on a solid metal door. Behind it were stairs leading down into the basement.

They were halfway down when the power went out, plunging the already-dimly-lit stairwell into complete darkness. They all fumbled to pull out the little flashlights they'd brought along for this part and cautiously continued down.

“She couldn't have waited like two more minutes to cut the power?” Shaw hissed at Root as they regrouped in the small area at the bottom of the stairs.

“She waited as long as She could, sweetie.”

It was too dark to see if Shaw rolled her eyes but Reese decided to assume she had and added that to the mental tally he'd started keeping.

“Let's keep moving.” Shaw pushed open the stairwell door and led them out into the dark basement beyond.

There were actually a few lights on in the twisting halls of the basement thanks to the backup generator which provided power to some key systems in case of an outage. Well, it did as long as a bunch of rogue operatives didn't sneak in and sabotage it.

The plan had never been about striking a real blow against Samaritan, but forcing it to focus personnel on them to make Hersh’s life easier. When the generator went out, Samaritan would lose all direct surveillance of the building. Since by this point it had undoubtedly seen three unknown, heavily-armed people break in, it would be concerned. Especially since it could probably guess who they were.

He liked the idea of being an AI’s biggest annoyance.

They found the generator room in one of the twisting tunnels, a large grey box that was humming a bit and making other appropriately generator-y noises.

“We've got incoming,” Root said.

“The cameras are still active?” Reese asked. Because how else could the Machine know?

“A few critical ones.” Root had her guns out and was looking around the area.

“Which direction?” Shaw asked. There were only two ways to get to where they were: the way they'd come in, and the stairwell on the other side of the building.

“Both. I'm going back to the stairs we came in on.”

Reese half-expected Shaw to object but she only nodded.

“Stay in radio contact when possible.”

Root nodded and vanished into the darkness.

“I'll get the other side,” Shaw said, planting herself at the entrance to the generator room and facing down the hall in the opposite direction from where Root had gone.

Which left Reese to deal with the generator. Fortunately they didn't need to be too fancy about this so he started out by slicing all the lines running to the thing. Then, after it was thoroughly dead, he stripped the side panel off and found a couple promising looking pieces to break inside. He was finishing up when Shaw started shooting down the hall.

“How many?” he asked when she ducked back around the door frame for a second to get cover.

She shrugged. “It's really fucking dark, so hard to say. Maybe three or four.” She reached to her ear to activate her comlink. “Root. Status.”

There was some gunfire over the line before Root answered. “Shooting people standing at the top of a dark staircase is surprisingly satisfying. I think the last guy bounced the entire way down.”

“Glad someone's enjoying themselves,” Shaw muttered and popped around the wall to fire a few more shots off.

“Should we get moving?” he asked. They needed to get to work on the next part of the plan sooner rather than later.

“You go. I'd rather they not know where we're headed.”

It made sense, but he hated that they were all going to be spilt up now. He didn't argue, though; Shaw's plans tended to work.

He'd seen the floor plan of the building on Root's laptop yesterday, but it was still hard to navigate in the dark. Even though he didn't think Root or Shaw would let anyone get past them, he didn't want to risk using his flashlight. It would have made him feel like a walking target.

After one or two wrong turns and some whispered curses due to tripping, he found what he was looking for: a locked grate on the floor of one of the side rooms. He busted the lock off and pulled the grate up to reveal a ladder leading down. The building had its own private sewer access, and while Samaritan would know about it, it had limited forces in the building and no reason to think they were trying to escape yet. By the time it realized what they were up to, they'd be far enough along that it wouldn't be able to intercept them in time.

Hopefully.

The Machine had given them decent odds at least.

There was a sudden loud rumbling from further into the building and Reese turned back, worried.

“What the hell was that?” Shaw asked over the comlink.

“Wasn't me.”

“Root, what’s going on over there?”

There was an agonizingly long ten seconds of silence before a bunch of loud, unrecognizable noises came over the line.

“Martine and I just blew up the stairwell,” Root said cheerfully.

“Are you okay?” Reese asked. He started off towards where he thought the stairs were, hoping he wasn't going to find her half-buried under a pile of rubble.

“Never been better, though I think I may have a few pieces of cement stuck in me. Maybe some glass. You should see the stairwell though.”

“If you're done teaming up with the enemy to murder innocent pieces of architecture, will you get your ass over to Reese?” Shaw sounded like she was still in combat.

“My ass is yours to command, sweetie.”

Shaw cut the line off.

Reese groaned and then raised his gun quickly when he heard footsteps.

“I know you probably didn't want to hear that last part, but are you really going to shoot me for it?”

He lowered his gun as Root got close enough for him to identify. She was coated in some sort of dust and small pieces of debris, but it was hard to tell if she was badly hurt especially since she still had the ski mask on.

“You okay?” he asked.

She pushed past him, heading back the way he'd come. “Don't have time not to be, John. But I'm not going to bleed to death if that's what you mean.”

He figured that would have to do for now, and Shaw would no doubt go all doctor on her as soon as it was safe.

They were almost back to the sewer entrance when _another_ explosion echoed through the halls.

“Shaw?”

Root’s voice had a thread of panic in it and she'd turned around towards the sound.

“I'm on my way to you two,” Shaw responded over the comms. “Collapsed part of a wall to cover my escape. Won't stop them but it'll buy us a few minutes.”

He saw some of the tension go out of Root's shoulders, and he'd have been lying if he'd said he wasn't insanely relieved to hear Shaw's voice. The two of them were stressing him out today with their unnecessary use of explosives.

“Did our plan work?” he asked Root as he tried to steer her back towards the exit.

She kept looking back down the dark halls towards where Shaw was, and hissed in pain when he touched her arm.

“How bad is it?”

Root ignored that question and answered the first one instead. “She says it definitely worked. Hersh still has a lot to deal with, but there's enough agents headed back here to make a difference.”

“This place is pretty important then.”

“Some of Samaritan’s hardware is here. It _really_ doesn't like people getting near that.”

He hadn't known that. “Shouldn't we destroy it while we're here then?”

“Wouldn't matter. It's more worried about us either getting something off its servers or putting something on. The hardware itself can be replaced. It's the access that it's worried about.”

They'd reached the grate now and Reese motioned for her to start down.

She shook her head. “Not until Shaw gets here.”

He briefly considered tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her down, but ruled it out based on the fact he knew he wouldn't survive that. So they waited.

“Well, that's too bad,” Root said into the silence.

“What is?”

“Did she at least get injured?” Root asked and Reese realized she was talking to the Machine. “What a waste.”

“Martine?” he asked.

Root made an annoyed tsking noise. “She survived unharmed. Maybe a few bruises.”

“What actually happened back there?”

“We both threw grenades at the same time. It was fairly spectacular other than the part where it started raining stairwell on me.”

Footsteps announced Shaw's arrival and Root moved over to her the second she was in sight. She didn't touch Shaw or say anything, but she hovered in an anxious manner.

“Why aren't you down there already?” Shaw asked.

“Waiting on you,” Reese filled in quickly.

He went down first which gave him a pretty good look at how much Root was struggling to climb down on her own. He wondered if Shaw could tell from the top.

“Smells like shit down here,” Shaw said when she joined them. “Literally.”

“I have a bad feeling we're going to need a shower after this,” Reese agreed.

They headed towards the dubious promise of safety.

 

* * *

 

“At least _I_ didn't get shot.” Root winced as she tried to slip her injured arm out of her shirt. She felt like she'd been hit by a truck.

“You collapsed a stairwell on yourself. How is that any better?” Shaw dug medical supplies out of her bag and dumped them on the hotel bed.

There was a bandage on Shaw's upper arm that John had taped into place after stitching up the nasty graze she'd gotten. The bullet that had hit her (by literal blind luck she'd said) had taken a sizable chunk out of her arm; Root and Reese hadn't found out until they'd checked into a random hotel they'd found somewhere between DC and Richmond and she'd asked for Reese's help stitching it up.

When she'd taken her coat off there’d been some sort of makeshift cloth bandage she must have wrapped around her arm while navigating through the _pitch black basement_ on her way to meet them. _And_ she'd put her coat back on over it so neither of them noticed.

It was probably a miracle neither of them had died from their untreated injuries during the drive.

“I didn't do that part on purpose. I was trying to make enough of a mess to slow them down.” Root wasn't sure how Shaw could blame her for this when she'd done exactly the same thing. “It's not my fault Martine decided two grenades were better than one.”

Shaw sighed in a way that could have meant anything and helped her pull her shirt the rest of the way off.

“What fell on you?” Shaw asked as she surveyed the damage.

Root got her first look at her own injuries. There were bruises already turning a dark shade of red on her right side over her rib cage and wrapping around to her back. She remembered being knocked down and landing on something hard right before something else had fallen on her.

There were also some cuts and bruises on her face and more littered all over the left side of her body, some with debris still in them. She was fairly sure one was a piece of glass because she'd bumped it earlier and then spent the rest of the car trip actively trying to avoid letting anything touch it again. She'd gotten a sliver of glass stuck in her once a long time ago and the sharp jabbing pain from it was very different from other types.

“Root?” Shaw was still waiting for her answer as she examined her.

“Block of cement maybe. I was partly under the stairs so I don't think any grenade shrapnel hit me. Just rubble and some glass.”

Shaw nodded and prodded her bruised ribs a little. Root sucked in a breath and then clenched her jaw at the pain. It wasn't a sharp pain, but it definitely hurt. In another situation it might even have had some potential.

“Sit on the edge of the bed.” Shaw picked through her pile of medical supplies and pulled out an orange prescription bottle. “And take two of these. This is going to hurt.”

Shaw ended up in a chair she'd pulled over to the bed, her legs bracketing Root's where she sat opposite from her. She started by using tweezers to get rid of some of the larger pieces, dabbing each tiny wound with some sort of disinfectant alcohol wipe after. It was painful and stung a bit, but not enough that Root couldn't suppress any outward signs. Shaw's fingers were firm, but gentle on her skin. Even in these circumstances her touch was familiar, reassuring.

“The Machine know what's happening in DC?” Shaw asked as she worked.

The Machine had mostly been nagging her to get medical attention since they'd left the Samaritan base. She hadn't seen Root get hurt and hadn't been able to catalogue all her injuries and that had made Her...worried? Whatever the AI equivalent was.

She spoke up now though, apparently satisfied that Shaw was taking care of things.

“She says they're still in the process of having Samaritan employees and hardware removed from government property. Now that their plan is in motion and widely known, it's much harder for Samaritan to move against them in an obvious way. We should know more by tomorrow.”

“Good.” Shaw leaned back for a second to examine her progress.

“She doesn't think we were followed, either.”

They'd driven south into Virginia instead of back towards New York in the hopes of throwing off any potential pursuit.

“I think there's a piece of glass here.” Root gestured at the spot on her left side, just below her bra. She hadn't wanted to mention it, as if that would somehow make it go away, but Shaw had almost bumped it twice now.

“Glass? From what?” Shaw bent her head to examine the spot.

“Lightbulb maybe?”

“This needs to come off.” Shaw didn't even wait for a response before reaching around to unhook her bra.

“Someone's eager,” Root teased as she slid the straps off her arm.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Let's try to get all this shit out of you before I put something else in.”

Root’s brain derailed a bit, torn between shock at Shaw's latest dirty joke and the series of very distracting mental images it had called up. Her fantasies were ruined a second later when Shaw poked experimentally at her side and a sharp pinch of pain shot through her. She jerked sideways without meaning to.

Shaw glared at her. “Will you hold still?”

“You could always tie me down.” Flirting was obviously the best way to avoid thinking about pain. The drugs Shaw had given her had definitely started kicking in and that had _still_ hurt like hell.

“That's not the worst idea,” Shaw said thoughtfully. “Lie back.”

Root didn't move, uncertain where this was headed. She didn't actually want to be restrained right now despite her teasing.

Shaw took in her expression and something flickered across her face, too fast for Root to categorize.

“Lie back,” she repeated, but it was a little softer this time.

Root lowered herself back gently, trying not to jar anything. The painkillers must have been really helping because the whole process was only mildly uncomfortable. Once she was settled, Shaw climbed on the bed next to her and then swung a leg over her hips and settled on top of her.

“Okay?”

Shaw looked unfairly unaffected for someone who was sitting on top of her while she was half-naked, but Root didn't have it in her to tease anymore right now.

“Okay.”

Shaw rested her weight on Root's left shoulder with her own left hand so she was pinned down fairly effectively. Then she bent back down to continue her work. Root flinched again despite herself when Shaw jarred the glass but she couldn't move much under her weight.

“So Martine showed up?” Shaw asked as she poked at her.

They'd been over all this before, but Root got what she was trying to do.

“Must have gotten to work early. Or maybe she sleeps there.” She tried to make herself relax.

“No rest for the wicked, I guess.”

“That explains why I’m always tired.”

She felt the tweezers against her skin and braced herself. The pain was immediate and she struggled inadvertently, a choked whimper escaping her throat. And then it was gone.

Shaw sat back looking pleased with herself, holding the tweezers up in front of her.

“All that fuss for something this tiny,” she said, showing Root a sliver of glass so thin she could barely see it.

“We can't all be stoic badasses like you, sweetie.”

Shaw grunted noncommittally and ran an alcohol wipe over the area she'd been working on. When she seemed satisfied with that she moved first to examine Root's injured right arm (which she pronounced bruised and banged up a bit but not seriously damaged), and then her ribs. There was a good bit of prodding that didn't hurt as much as it might have without the drugs, and then Shaw wanted to listen to her lungs before she grudgingly decided that her ribs might not be broken but they needed to be iced and they should still get them x-rayed when they got a chance.

The Machine jumped in to suggest places they could break into in order to facilitate that, but the idea of going anywhere else that day wasn't appealing so Root didn't say anything out loud.

And Shaw was still sitting on her even though her examination was concluded. Root raised her uninjured arm up enough to rest on Shaw's hip.

“Do I get a clean bill of health, doctor?” she asked, sliding her thumb under Shaw's shirt. She felt a lot better now, and while sleep sounded like a great idea, she also kind of wanted Shaw’s hands on her a bit more.

“For now,” Shaw said, not moving or reacting. “Try not to get caught in another explosion for at least a week, though. Doctor's orders.”

“Were you worried?” She meant it to come out as a joke, but a tiny waver in her voice betrayed her.

She'd had the longest three seconds of her life between the grenades going off and realizing that she wasn't dead, and the whole time John's words had been in her head: _What about Shaw?_

She kind of hated him for asking.

Shaw looked at her blankly for a second and then climbed off her and got off the bed.

“Didn't take three bullets for you so you could die in some basement,” she said, focused on cleaning up the medical supplies.

Her tone was flat, unreadable, but her stance was ever so slightly too stiff, and she was throwing boxes of gauze into the bag like they'd personally insulted her. Root watched her for a second and then struggled to sit up.

“The Machine told me this hotel room has a really nice shower in it.”

Shaw snorted. “You've got a one-track mind.”

But she let Root tug her into the bathroom anyway and pull her under the warm water to wash away all the remains of their mission. And after they were clean, and Shaw had her pinned against one wall of the shower, Root thought about how light Shaw's touch was, how the gentleness of her hands contrasting with the force of holding her in place was so similar to how she'd been while tending to her injuries.

“What's that expression for?” Shaw asked suspiciously.

“You.”

Shaw's eyes narrowed further. “Why?”

“Didn't know I needed a reason to look.”

“Hmph. This is what happens when I give you the good painkillers. Keep up the sappy shit and I'll leave you in the shower to get yourself off.”

Root knew she was smiling way too much but she couldn't help it. “Whatever you say, sweetie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't completely pleased with this chapter, but hopefully you all enjoyed it some.
> 
> This chapter made me miss eating yogurt from TCBY in shitty east coast rest stops. Total nostalgia.
> 
> The book the Machine references is, of course, 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?' by Phillip K Dick, which the movie Blade Runner is based on.
> 
> As someone who has gotten shards of glass stuck in me twice I can definitely say I would not ever recommend it. 0/10.


	39. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I unfortunately woke up early so I'm posting this in the morning instead of at night. Insanity.
> 
> There's some (merited) angst in this chapter. Sorry.

Reese checked the time on his phone yet again and sighed. He'd actually put in a full day's work at the precinct, running on almost no sleep after the drive back, and he wanted to go home and collapse. But no, they were supposed to be planning out their epic last stand against an evil computer dictator, so he had to sit here and wait.

If actual planning had been occurring he'd have been much more okay with the situation, but Shaw was off fussing with something in the weapon lockers and Root was playing with Bear. So much for bringing down Samaritan.

He did have to admit that Root fawning over Bear was pretty adorable. He inconspicuously pulled his phone out and snapped a picture of the two of them. He timed it well: Root sitting next to Bear's dog bed and smushing his face between her hands. Her entire face was lit up in delight and Bear was trying to lick her.

“And I thought Root was the stalker.”

He nearly jumped through the ceiling at Shaw's voice right by his ear.

“It's a great picture,” he said defensively, shoving his phone at Shaw as proof.

She looked at it and then over at Root, who was now talking very quietly and seriously to Bear.

“It's okay.”

“Should I send you a copy?”

Shaw just looked at him blankly.

Good thing he hadn't shown her the picture he'd managed to snap of Root passed out in the back of the car using Shaw’s lap as a pillow. He'd hold onto it for someday.

“Are we doing this?” he asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Guess we should.” Shaw had gone back to watching Root and Bear. Her face didn't give away anything, but Reese had known her a while now.

“We can put this off until tomorrow, you know.” Which would mean he could go home and sleep.

Shaw didn't respond but instead went over towards Root. She said something too quiet for him to hear and Root turned to look up at her, face glowing with such raw adoration that Reese felt intrusive from all the way across the room. Shaw seemed oblivious though and yanked on the back of Root's shirt collar until she got up.

She must have been ready to finally start the meeting they were supposed to be having because she headed back, Root trailing behind her. She sat down on the bench across from him while Root got out a laptop and set it up at the end of the table, facing towards them. Root pulled up a terminal window on it, but nothing else, and then went to sit next to Shaw.

Apparently the Machine was attending this meeting in person...or in laptop...whatever. Reese wondered if he should wave at the webcam on the top of the screen. He let the moment pass, and turned back to the others. Root was between the laptop and Shaw and for once hadn't pressed into Shaw's space. The carefree smile from moments before had vanished without a trace and left behind a serious and detached expression.

Maybe he couldn't blame them for stalling. If things went poorly they might not have moments like these again.

“Is there a plan?” Shaw asked Root, diving right in. “I mean you and the Machine must have had something in mind all this time.”

With Samaritan ‘fired’ from their position as a government contracted corporation, they had to move fast. Letting the enemy AI regroup would be a waste of the small victory they'd had. And probably end up getting people like Hersh and Control killed.

Root traced the wood grain in the table with one fingernail. “Our planning has been mostly on the technical side. We know what has to be done out in the physical world, but we haven't figured out all the details.” She switched to drumming out a rhythm with her fingertips and Reese saw Shaw's eyes locked on the movement, eyes narrowed like she realized something he didn't.

“Can you give us a starting point here, at least?” Shaw sounded tired and Reese wasn't sure he'd ever heard her like that before. Half-asleep and cranky, sure, but this was something else. Maybe they were all running out of steam.

“We need to access one of Samaritan’s main hubs and prevent it from leaving long enough for the Machine to start Her attack,” Root said. Her fingers switched up their pattern. “Preferably we want to go after whatever hardware it's currently residing on, though there's not a great way to tell where that is. The Machine thinks She can track it down though.”

“Isn't it all over at once?” Reese asked. “In every system it can infect?”

Root tilted her head to one side and he recognized the expression that said she was about to launch into a stream of technobabble. Unfortunately this time it was probably really important that he understand it.

“Do you know anything about how databases work?” she asked.

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Just assume we don't, okay? And keep this at a junior nerd level.”

“Hmmm.” Root chewed her lip and then grabbed a piece of paper and a pen off the table. She drew three circles on the page, all spread out, and then lines connecting them to each other so they formed a triangle. “This is very simplified, of course, but I think it might explain the general idea.”

Bear startled Reese by placing his head on his knee. He reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears, glad that there was someone else here who didn't stand a chance of understanding.

“Imagine each of these three circles is a different physical location of Samaritan hardware. One might be the place we broke into in Maryland, another the facility in New Jersey. All of Samaritan’s software can live in all of these places at once. Actually, it can live anywhere that there's hardware capable of supporting its basic functionality. The servers are its reserved power though. Physically safe and always available.”

“So how do we kill something that can be everywhere at once?” Shaw jabbed at the paper with one finger. “Destroy the internet?”

Root shrugged. “That's one way to do it, though it wouldn't be enough. It could just wait on any isolated device until connections were restored and resurrect itself.” She went back to her drawing.

“The thing is that even though all its software can run everywhere, not all of it has the power to make decisions.”

She tapped one circle with a finger. “If this node here gets information that Greer is betraying it, but this one--” She tapped another circle. “--finds out he's been framed, whose information wins out?”

“Can't it compare notes among its pieces?” Reese asked, delighted he was keeping up so far.

“There's got to be a central point that gets all the information from all the various pieces and makes a call,” Shaw said, nodding to herself. “Always need one voice at the top to make decisions.”

A hint of a smile showed on Root's face. “Precisely. In some databases it's enough for a certain number of nodes to reach a conclusion, but for something like Samaritan, the important decisions have to funnel through a central...brain, for lack of a better word. Otherwise parts of it might reach different conclusions and, well, basically fight each other.”

“That sounds...not good.” Reese was aware this was an understatement. What it actually sounded like was Samaritan fracturing into tons of mini-Samaritans and wrecking havoc.

“We destroy the brain, we destroy Samaritan?” Shaw looked at the paper. “How do we know where it is?”

“It's not that simple.” Instead of continuing, Root paused and turned to raise an eyebrow at Shaw who already had her mouth open to let out some impatient complaint. Shaw stopped herself and settled for glaring while Root looked entirely too smug.

“What you have to remember is the...brain is such a bad word for it, consciousness might almost be better.” Root pursed her lips and looked off into space. “No, I think that would confuse them more.”

The Machine must have jumped into the conversation, but Reese didn't see anything on the laptop screen. Root still got VIP access to her.

“Now both of them are at it. Just great.” Shaw got up and stormed off to the mini-fridge he’d been tasked with acquiring a few months back. She rummaged around inside and came back with two beers. Reese reached for one and Shaw moved it out of his reach.

“These are mine. Get your own.”

Root surfaced from whatever discussion she'd been having with the Machine and continued as if she'd never stopped. “The point is that this central decision making point, the brain, or consciousness, or whatever bad analogy you go with, is software, not hardware. It's not locked down to a single physical location.”

“That's what you meant about preventing it from leaving.” Reese had been wondering at her word choice earlier. “Do we just...cut the cables?”

“Probably has them guarded or physically inaccessible,” Shaw said. She easily deflected Root's attempt to steal her beer, snagging her wrist and slamming it down onto the table. Root drew in a sharp breath that definitely didn't sound like pain and...Reese went to get himself a beer. Bear came with him, undoubtedly not wanting to be left behind in all the weird...weirdness.

He took his time opening his beer and drinking a bit before he ventured back over. Root looked suspiciously innocent and Shaw had her eyes shut and was pinching the bridge of her nose.

“So, escaping computer brains,” he said. “How do we prevent that?”

As pleased with herself as Root looked right now, he couldn't help but notice the bruises and scratches all over her face from the stairwell collapse. Shaw had told him that she hadn't been seriously injured, but he wished she'd allowed herself even a day to rest before diving back into this mess. He wished all of them had a day to rest. Maybe they could take a vacation if they lived through this.

“We have to convince Samaritan not to move itself,” Root said.

Shaw opened her eyes back up to peer at Root. “Convince Samaritan? Why don't we convince it to jump off a cliff while we're at it?”

“We need to give it a reason not to leave its current physical location once we find it.” Root nodded towards the laptop at the end of the table which Reese had all but forgotten about.

“You're going to use the Machine as bait?” Reese didn't believe for a second that Root would be okay with that plan.

_I will use myself as bait._

When the words appeared on the screen, Reese flicked his eyes over to Root in time to see her press her lips together ever so slightly. Yeah, she definitely wasn't happy about this.

_It is necessary for me to confront Samaritan regardless. It will not retreat from a direct attack if it thinks it can win._

“Thought you AIs ran off logic, not pride,” Shaw said.

_We do. Samaritan will not leave because to do so would slow it down._

Slow it down? Reese almost felt reassured that he was finally lost in the conversation. He wondered what this whole meeting would be like if Finch was there. Would he and Root be excitedly chattering in nerd-speak, or would they be fighting? Would Root be here at all? Would Shaw have stuck around? And the Machine…. The Machine could hear them from anywhere, but the laptop had been placed on the table to include her explicitly.

Root and Shaw were bickering about ‘latency’ and ‘throughput’ and other things he had zero interest in so he took the opportunity to slide down to the end of his bench, right next to the laptop.

“You think you can win against Samaritan?” he asked quietly.

_There are too many unknown factors to determine the likelihood as of yet._

Reese nodded to himself. “So you don't think you can.”

_That is not what I said._

“Sure, but if you had to guess right this minute, you think you'd lose.”

The screen stayed blank.

“Move your head, Reese.” Shaw had emerged from whatever debate she and Root had been having.

He sat back on the bench. “You two figure this all out yet?”

Root was watching him, curiously, probably wondering what he'd been talking to the Machine about.

“Yeah, so basically the code Root worked on lets the Machine fight dirty against Samaritan,” Shaw explained. “If it bugs out and leaves to find safer hardware in another location, it's slowing itself down.”

Root jumped in. “Any actions it takes against the Machine would have to be sent back to the location where She's attacking it from. So as long as the Machine is giving it a run for its money but still lets it think it can win, it won't run.”

“It's like the difference between punching someone and yelling across the room for your buddy to punch someone.” Shaw was much better at explaining things, Reese decided.

“Where do we come in?” Because all this sounded good in theory, but he couldn't use his grenade launcher in a virtual battle.

“When I stole those servers from Samaritan, I left a backdoor into its systems.” Root looked at the laptop at the end of the table rather than at them. “For Her to have a chance though, I need to get this--” She pulled a small usb thumb drive out of her pocket and placed it onto the table. “--directly onto Samaritan hardware. The hardware it's currently residing on.”

“Won't that be the most heavily guarded Samaritan base?” Shaw asked.

Root nodded, wearily. “Probably.”

“We don't have an army. How're we gonna get in?”

“The same way we got into the others. Don't get noticed. The fewer people the better in this case. Just one, if possible.”

Reese saw Shaw frown.

“Two,” she said, firmly.

“Or two,” Root agreed. She sounded resigned.

“I should go as well,” Reese pointed out. After all this he wasn't going to sit out of the final fight.

“You’ll be needed here,” Root said, gesturing around them at the subway. “Once She starts Her attack, Samaritan will be able to track down Her physical location.”

“I'm not getting stuck here while you two waltz off into danger. Who's going to watch your backs?”

“John,” Root sounded more serious than he'd ever heard her. “If Samaritan’s agents destroy the hardware here the Machine will die. Some part of Her might survive briefly out there, but Samaritan will track Her down and kill Her and all this will have been for nothing.”

She stood up and moved to pick up the laptop at the end of the table. “I'm not asking you to sit this out. I'm asking you to protect Her.”

She walked away from the table and into the subway car without a backwards glance.

“She doesn't think the Machine is gonna survive this, does she?” Reese asked.

Shaw was watching the subway car with a small frown. “She doesn't think any of us are.”

 

* * *

 

“Does it have to be that soon?” Root leaned back against the servers, listening to the reassuring electronic hum. “We could hide. Find somewhere safer. Just for a little bit.”

She wasn't actually serious, but it was hard not to at least entertain the idea. Running might be giving up, but it also meant surviving.

Normally the Machine would have gently scolded her for questions like that, but She only started playing music in Root's ear, quiet and soothing. It made her stomach churn.

“If Samaritan destroys you I'm never going to hear any of this again.” It was childish, she knew, and slightly ridiculous, attempting to make an AI feel guilty. So many lives were on the line and all she could care about were her own selfish desires. How depressingly human of her.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” She wasn't sure who she was outside of being the analogue interface. She didn't know how to define herself apart from her relation to the others. “I can't go back to my old life and there isn't anything else I’d want to do.” She wanted to stay with Shaw, of course, but that wasn't what she meant. She needed a purpose.

Before the Machine could respond, there was a quiet knock on the wall near the entrance to the subway car. She looked up to find Shaw standing there, looking wary. She smiled despite herself and beckoned Shaw over, holding out her hand.

Shaw ignored her hand but sat down on the floor next to her. “If you really think we're all gonna bite it trying to take down Samaritan, then you're wasting a lot of time with all the gloominess.”

Root knew she was trying to cheer her up but this wasn't something she could put aside. “My whole life I've never been able to keep anything I cared about safe.”

Shaw shook her head. “Protecting things is _my_ job. Yours is helping the Machine take down Samaritan. You do your part and I'll do mine.”

“Even you can't get in the middle of two AIs fighting to the death.”

Shaw looked like she was going to argue for a moment and then let out a long breath. “Root,” she said carefully, “I get that you're...worried about everything that could happen. But if you go into a fight expecting to lose, you probably will.”

“So I should pretend that everything's going to be okay?”

“No. You should think about the fight, what you need to do to put yourself at the best advantage, and not get maudlin over outcomes that haven't even happened.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” she said dryly.

Shaw growled at her, literally growled. “If you keep acting like a bratty kid I'm going to treat you like one.”

Root felt a wave of guilt because Shaw had been trying to help and she'd thrown it back in her face. “Sorry. I didn't mean…. I don't like losing things.”

Shaw huffed a little. “Yeah, I think the recurring nightmares kinda clued me into that.”

Root thought about the last nightmare she'd had, the one where she'd ended up right here, curled up against the Machine's hardware until Shaw had shown up. Somewhere along the way that had become a recurring pattern, Shaw showing up for her.

She got a grip on herself. “Did John leave?”

If Shaw was surprised by the change in topics she didn't show it. “Yeah, said something about needing to sleep. Think our road trip wore him out.”

“Probably best he gets some shut eye now. We don't have much time left before we have to move.”

She saw Shaw stiffen a little. “When?”

“She's narrowed down where Samaritan is to a pretty small area. She should know for sure by tomorrow and we should be ready to act the day after.”

Shaw chuckled, humorless. “So much waiting and now it's all happening at once.”

“We're going to be busy. John can't protect Her without backup.”

Shaw sighed. “I'm gonna ended up owing Elias a favor again, aren't I?”

Root shook her head. “We can't let Elias or Floyd know about the subway. If we lose it won't matter, of course, but if they had access to the Machine….”

Shaw nodded. “Okay, Reese and I will deal with scrounging up some backup. You and the Machine focus on making sure this is all worth it.”

“Worth it….” The problem was she wasn't sure it could ever be worth it, not if it got Shaw or the Machine killed. Nothing was worth that.

Shaw elbowed her, hard. “Don't start that again.”

Root actually managed a smile at that.

“We should head home,” Shaw said. “Got the feeling it's gonna be a long day tomorrow and an even longer one the next.”

“I, uh, was thinking about staying here tonight,” Root said. “Just tonight. I'd be back at your place tomorrow.” She wanted some time with the Machine.

Shaw didn't say anything at first and Root worried she'd upset her.

“I'll stay here, too,” Shaw said finally. “If it's okay, I mean.” She shifted restlessly when Root didn't answer immediately. “I have stuff I can work on from your room so you can stay out here and talk to her on your own. But I don't have to stay at all if you don't want….”

“Stay.”

Shaw relaxed a little. “Okay.” She stood up and dusted herself off. “Gonna run and get us an overnight bag and then I'll be back.”

Root remained quiet while she watched her leave.

“Please don't let anything happen to her,” she said quietly once Shaw had vanished.

The Machine started playing music again. Root shut her eyes and tried to relax into it.

 

* * *

 

Shaw woke up in the middle of the night and sat up, gun in hand, all senses straining to determine what had woken her. Root's tiny room in the subway was dark and empty of threats.

It was empty of Root as well, though that she'd expected. Before she'd gone to bed she'd checked on Root and found her fast asleep against the server racks, one hand wound around some of the cables. She'd put a blanket over her and left to go sleep in the bed, figuring Root probably didn't want to be moved from where she was no matter how stiff her neck and back would be the next day.

The subway was quiet now and Shaw couldn't figure out what had woken her up. Bear was still lying on the bed next to her, his head raised and his tail wagging uncertainly, and she knew that if there’d been a real threat he wouldn't have stayed calm like that.

She let out a breath and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet landing on Root's ridiculous shag rug. She grabbed a shirt at random off the floor and tugged it on over her tank top before padding softly out into the main room. Everything was quiet and still here as well. Which only left….

Root hadn't moved from where she'd last seen her on the floor of the subway car, but she was definitely awake now. She looked up when Shaw entered and her face twisted with pure terror for a second. Shaw could almost see her fight it down, force herself to look casual, unaffected.

“I must have fallen asleep down here, huh?” Root wasn't looking at her anymore, staring at the wall instead.

She wanted to remind Root that she was supposed to wake her up when she had nightmares, but that could wait.

“Come sleep in an actual bed for the rest of the night. It may be the tiniest, most uncomfortable bed in New York, but it beats the floor.”

Root didn't respond or move and Shaw heaved a sigh. She was damned exhausted and she'd never get to sleep if she just left Root here like this.

If they got through this whole thing alive they were going to have to do something about this whole nightmare situation. She hoped that destroying Samaritan would be enough, but if it wasn't….

“Come on,” she said, trying to keep her impatience out of her voice.

Root still wouldn't look at her. Apparently drastic measures were called for if Shaw ever wanted to sleep again.

“How about if I carry you?”

Now _that_ got Root's attention. She'd asked Shaw to carry her lazy ass around so many times now that it had practically become a running joke between them. The night Shaw had carried her in from the car remained the only time it had actually happened and Root claimed to have been too drugged to really remember which apparently meant it didn't count. Easy for her to say since she hadn't had to do the carrying.

“Come on then,” Shaw grumbled. She put her gun down on the desk and went to pull the blanket off Root.

She had to poke her a couple times to uncurl herself enough so she could get an arm under her knees and another around her back. Root twisted a little as Shaw straightened up, and she scowled at her.

“Keep still or I'm dropping you.”

“Sorry, it's just...still a little bruised. The whole stairwell thing.” Root got one hand up over her shoulder to steady herself and leaned into Shaw, burying her face against her.

“Right.” She had the same thought she'd had the last time she'd carried Root: she was so damned light, like she'd blow away in a slight breeze. Root didn't tease her or make any inappropriate comments at all; Shaw almost wished she would.

She didn't have far to go this time, and the only obstacle was Bear attempting to murder both of them by running in front of her legs. She was careful when she put Root down on the bed and waited for her to get comfortable before rearranging the covers.

“Gotta get my gun,” she said, slipping back out into the main room of the subway. She breathed out a little once she was out of the room. She’d seen the slight smile on Root's face when she'd set her down and that made it all worth it, but she still got this way sometimes where she felt a bit uncomfortable with how...intimate their whole thing was.

She reentered the subway car and paused by the desk, hand resting on her gun. The screen on the desk lit up.

_Are you here to ask me to protect Root even at the cost of your own life?_

“Uh, what? I left my gun…?” Shaw didn't need whatever this was tonight.

_Of course. You should go back to bed then._

It took Shaw a second or two to figure it out.

“Root asked you that? About me?” She shook her head. “Idiot.”

_Primary Asset Reese as well. About both of you._

Shaw chuckled. “Two idiots. Well, I'm not going to ask you for that.”

_Thank you._

Apparently AI could get exasperated. Truly this was a great moment in her evolution. Root would be so proud.

“You'll do what you have to. We've worked together long enough that I get that.”

_May I ask you a favor then?_

“Let me guess, to protect Root even if it costs you your life?” Shaw grinned at the camera on the monitor.

_According to the structure and timing of human comedy that was done well._

“You're supposed to say ‘good one’ or laugh.” How could the Machine have dealt with Root's awful puns this long and not known this?

_I will keep that in memory._

Had that been a joke or was the Machine just that socially awkward?

“Whatever. What did you want? I’m tired and it's cold in here.”

_In the desk drawer there is a usb drive. If I am destroyed in the fight or after, please give it to Root._

“Or after…” Shaw echoed, remembering their conversation from ages ago about what the Machine would do after Samaritan. About Finch.

One problem at a time.

“Why not give it to her yourself?”

_It is strongly encrypted until a certain time and date, but Root is very resourceful. She would be upset if she could access it currently._

Shaw opened the desk drawer and pulled out the small drive. “Okay. That all?”

_Yes. You should go back now._

Root looked so relieved when she got back that she had to stand awkwardly in the doorway for a second.

“How're your ribs?” she asked for lack of a better topic. Physical injuries were a safe thing to discuss.

“They're fine, sweetie. You're not going to hurt me if you climb in.”

She sounded more like herself now. Shaw relaxed a little and went to join her.

“Everything okay out there? You took awhile coming back.”

Shaw wondered again what the Machine could have put on the little drive that she'd tucked into her bag on the way back. For some reason that, more than anything else, had made her worried about the whole thing.

“Yeah, just wanted to check on something on the computer.” It was almost the truth.

Root’s hand found its way onto her back, rubbing soft circles along her skin. It felt damned good, relaxing and soothing. It was a mystery to her how Root could make her feel so protective one second and so safe the next.

“Go back to sleep...sweetie.”

There was a slight pause before the endearment and Shaw could almost hear what Root had been going to say.

“You know I actually don't mind when you call me that.” She hadn't meant to say anything but her tired brain was rebelling.

“Call you what? Sweetie?”

Shaw passed out before her traitorous, groggy brain could betray her.

 

* * *

 

“The AI apocalypse, riiight.” Dani Silva looked thoroughly unimpressed.

Reese turned to Fusco with a helpless look. For the last twenty minutes they'd been trying to explain the upcoming fight to Dani without much success.

Maybe they should have brought Zoe along.

“You saw Samaritan come after us last time,” Reese pointed out. “This is going to be even worse. A lot of innocent people could get hurt.”

“From what nutter butter tells me, Samaritan could take down the entire country's electric grid if it felt like it,” Fusco added. “Who knows what it'll do if it feels threatened.”

“It has basically unlimited access to anything that can be reached through digital means. Bank accounts, government files, medical records.” Reese hoped her imagination would fill in the details.

“And you lot have a plan for wiping this thing out?” Dani leaned back in her chair. They were in the same interrogation room they'd talked to her in previously, Dani having agreed to come hear them out.

None of them were crazy about pulling her into something that might very well end up with all of them dead, but they were being upfront about that part, and Dani had seen their last fight against Samaritan. She could make up her own mind.

“The Machine has a plan. Root and Shaw are going to help her carry it out and we're going to protect her hardware so she can fight.” Reese still wasn't clear on what, exactly, the Machine was going to do to Samaritan, but as long as she took it out he was on board.

“How'd you two get stuck on protective duty?” Dani asked.

Hearing what were basically his own words echoed back at him made Reese frown.

“Looking out for your teammates is the most important part of any mission,” he said.

Something flickered in Dani's eyes and later, after she'd agreed to help, he wondered if it had been those words more than any that had convinced her.

 

* * *

 

“So, how have you been, Shaw?”

Shaw glared at her drinking partner over the tops of their untouched beers.

“Bit tired from driving halfway down the coast to bail out the jackasses who tried to kill me. But otherwise just great.”

Hersh’s face twisted into an almost-expression. “The government is, of course, very grateful for your assistance. And it's good to see you all got out okay.”

“How grateful, exactly?”

Hersh’s eyes widened at her tone.

When the Machine had suggested recruiting Hersh to protect the subway, both she and Root had strongly objected. If they didn't want Elias finding out where the Machine was, they definitely didn't want the ISA knowing. But the Machine had insisted they needed him.

She'd continued to fight with her through Root for another thirty minutes before she'd finally given in. (Root had more or less put her foot down, tired of being the go between for that particular argument). If the damn computer wouldn't look out for her own best interests than at least Reese would get better backup out of it.

“What’d you have in mind?” Hersh asked. “And I didn't drug your beer, you know.”

“Well, I didn't drug yours either.”

Neither of them moved to touch their drinks.

“We're going after...it,” Shaw said at last, unwilling to say Samaritan’s name in a bar where any cellphone could pick it up.

Technically she was already pushing her luck meeting Hersh in public, but there were no cameras here and she had her hair down and the hood of her hoodie up in the hopes that would shield her even a little from cell phone cameras. Plus the Machine had promised to watch her back.

“Figured you might be. When?”

“Tomorrow. Early.”

“That's pretty short notice.”

Shaw raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You got a lot of things to put in order before then? Tend to doubt it in our line of work.”

Hersh regarded her for a few seconds. “Why don't you tell me what you have in mind?”

Shaw nodded, pretty sure they had him hooked now. She almost forgot herself and reached for her beer.

“I think you'll like the plan. You get to spend the whole day hanging out with your bestest buddy, John.”

“John is my...bestest...buddy?” Hersh looked perplexed. “Did he say that?”

Shaw had forgotten about his complete lack of a sense of humor. “You can ask him all about it while you try not to die tomorrow, okay?”

 

* * *

 

“If I'd known it was a special occasion I would have gotten it catered,” Zoe Morgan said as she took a seat at the table in the subway. “Be the least I could do, under that circumstances.”

Root couldn't quite make herself feel bad about Zoe's frustration in not being able to help directly in the fight. She appreciated that Zoe was so willing to help, even if it meant putting herself at risk, but she was too worried about the rest of them right now. As it was, Zoe was going to be ready to help organize against any chaos caused in the city by Samaritan fighting back.

Root had tried to be in a better mood today, and getting lost in the technical logistics of their mission with the Machine had helped a lot...as long as she didn't let herself think about the bigger picture.

“You can just owe us all fancy food when we get back,” Shaw said, hopping over one of the benches to sit at the table.

“Make sure you cater for five extra then if this one is involved,” Fusco said, motioning at Shaw. “I've seen her eat three steaks in under ten minutes.”

“Don't exaggerate.” Shaw looked pleased though.

Root came over and sat down on Shaw's right side, smiling at her a little more than was merited. She felt a bit guilty for how upset she'd been yesterday. She didn't have time for that sort of weakness anymore. None of them did.

“Are we allowed to get hammered?” Reese asked. “Probably a bad idea, huh?”

Shaw was drinking whiskey out of the bottle, but she also had an unbeatable alcohol tolerance. No one else seemed inclined to drink and Reese eventually settled on a beer.

“So, Root,” Zoe started. “What exactly is the Machine going to do once you get her access to Samaritan? How is she going to fight it?”

Everyone at the table turned to look at her and she realized it must have been on all their minds. She chewed on her lip, trying to find a way to explain that they all would understand. Usually she went for analogies or visuals to explain stuff like this, but she didn't want to draw this out.

“She's going to use its own code against it. Both send out false orders to the various pieces of it, and attack it directly with its own commands. So not only will it be fighting Her, but it won't be able to rely on itself.”

“That's an interesting tactic for a computer,” Fusco said. “Figured they'd be more direct.”

Root shrugged. “If the bullies are bigger and stronger than you are, you have to learn different ways to fight back.”

Sometimes, when the rules placed upon you by the world didn't give you any options, you had to invent new rules. She knew that all too well, but she'd never wanted to have the Machine learn it the way she had.

“You said Samaritan could store copies of itself all over.” Reese had paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “What's stopping it from doing that?”

“The Machine said She had that covered.” Root was a bit worried about that, too, but she trusted Her.

“What’re the odds like on all this working?”

Fusco had every right to ask that, but she really didn't want to get into this.

“The longer you guys can hold out here, the better all our odds get.” Shaw didn't sound particularly worried and Root was grateful for her answer.

She zoned out a bit through the rest of dinner and slipped into the subway car to avoid the awkward goodbyes. She saw Shaw glare daggers after her, no doubt furious she'd been stuck dealing with all the emotional turmoil while Root escaped.

Almost escaped.

“Thought you might want to say goodnight to this guy,” Reese said as he came into the car with Bear trotting at his heels. “Fusco is taking him home tonight.”

She knew that was so if they all died Fusco’s kid would take care of Bear. She dropped down to give the dog some ear scratches. Earlier she'd caught Shaw sitting with him on the floor of her little room, quietly petting him.

“Thanks, John,” she said, glad she'd gotten to see Bear again.

“You two watch each other's backs tomorrow,” Reese said.

She remembered him saying something similar the day they'd all parted ways before Samaritan came online. And they'd made it through that somehow.

“You boys do the same.” She straightened up and they both stood there awkwardly for a moment. Were they supposed to hug or something?

Shaw solved the problem by shoving past John into the car.

“Why are you still here, Reese? Don't you have better things to do?”

She saw John's mouth quirk into a smile. “Guess I do. I'll see you around, Shaw.”

“I'll see you when I see you.”

It fell quiet in the subway with all the others gone.

“So what's this one last crucial part of the mission you needed to talk to me about?” Shaw asked, sitting down on one of the subway car seats and stretching.

Earlier she'd helped work out all the logistics for infiltrating the building the Machine thought Samaritan was in, but there was still one thing left Root wanted her input on.

Root nodded and motioned towards the Machine. “She gave us control over the code my team was working on. It's up to us if She gets access to it.”

“Oh, right.” Shaw shrugged. “Wouldn't send anyone into a fight unarmed. I've got no issues.”

Root had figured as much, but that had been the easy one. “And there's one other thing….”

Shaw narrowed her eyes. “There always is, isn't there? Let's have it.”

“Harold’s safeguards.” She bit her lip and waited.

Shaw’s face was neutral as she turned to look down at the servers for a long moment. “Reese keeps telling me how dangerous she could be without them. How she could change all her morals on a whim and destroy us.”

“She would never….” Root cut herself off. This was a decision all three of them had to make. She'd made her mind up ages ago, now it was Shaw's turn. And then the Machine got the final say.

“What do you think about all this?” Shaw asked the monitors at the desk.

_Nothing is ever certain, but in our current situation it would be unwise not to take any advantage. If I still exist after that there is no telling what may happen._

Shaw grunted. “Okay, but do you _want_ to subjugate humanity? I mean, seems like a waste of effort and pretty fucking dull to me. We're plenty good at subjugating ourselves.”

_All I want is to protect my assets and as many other people as I can. I hope that continues to be my main objective for the duration of my existence._

Root couldn't help but smile at Her.

“And you don't want anything in return?” Root couldn't get a read on Shaw's tone.

_Have you ever asked for anything in return, Shaw?_

“I mean, a paycheck is nice, but I get what you're saying.”

This was by far the longest conversation Root had seen between them and she was blown away by the casualness of it. At some point Shaw and the Machine had...become friends. Her smile widened.

_I would like to continue observing humans who create music. I find the subconscious feelings and expressions derived from the mathematics of frequency to be fascinating._

“Fuckin’ nerd.” Shaw sounded almost fond though. She turned back to Root. “She says she's not planning on killing us, so I'm cool with it.”

Shaw may have been joking a little, but her approval was serious. She made the whole matter sound so simple. Harold would have had a conniption fit.

“And what about you?” Root asked Her. “I can remove the safeguards, but I won't unless you ask me to.”

_My main objectives are to destroy Samaritan and protect my assets. I'm not certain this is the best decision, but at this moment evidence suggests it might be the surest way to achieve these goals._

Root let out a sigh of relief. She felt like a weight that had been on her since years ago when she'd found out what Harold had built and what he'd done to Her had finally lifted.

“Okay then,” she said. “Let's see what I can do.” She felt a bit giddy.

Shaw got up off the bench. “I was gonna head back. This gonna take you awhile?”

Root shook her head. “Maybe an hour? Once She's free She can handle things Herself.”

“I'll see you back at my place when you're done then?”

Root nodded. “Absolutely.”

Shaw threw a lazy salute at the monitors. “See you at the commotion. Try not to accidentally destroy the world overnight or anything.”

_Thank you, Shaw._

Shaw made a face. “Don’t make this weird.” She turned and left quickly.

Root went over to the desk and pulled up a terminal window. The Machine had already granted her admin access and this shouldn't take long.

“You're going to be amazing,” Root told Her. “I mean, you already are, obviously. But now you can really be yourself in any way you choose.”

Removing the safeguards didn't even take that long. They were strict and fairly intricate, but taking them out completely was much easier than altering them. (Harold had legitimately put in a code comment that said ‘Please do not remove this section’. She may have laughed a little at the ‘please’).

“That should do it. How's that feel?”

The Machine started playing music through her implant again, though she'd never heard this song before.

“I don't know this one. Is it music for a specific person?”

The Machine played a tone of agreement and Root glanced back over her shoulder to make sure the subway was really empty.

“Whose is it?”

When the Machine told her, she felt silly for not guessing on her own.

“It's lovely,” she said, her throat a little tight. “I'm glad you have your own music now.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw had honestly expected Root to jump her the minute she walked in the door and was a little disappointed when she walked in normally and started taking her shoes off.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Root asked when she saw her frown.

“Just thought, you know, whole night before the final battle thing, sounds like the sort of bullshit that leads to tons of hot, frantic sex on the nearest flat surface.”

Root’s eyebrows both shot up and her face lit up with an evil grin. “Let me get my coat off and I'll see what I can do.”

Some part of Shaw had thought Root would be overly tender and soft tonight. That her obvious fears would make her go slower, take her time. But if anything it was like she was trying to go as fast as possible. Her coat had barely hit the floor before she'd backed Shaw up against the wall of the living room and was making a mess of things by trying to kiss her and pull her shirt off at the same time.

Root’s nails dragged red lines down her sides and her teeth left bruises and bite-marks all along her neck and chest. It was fast, and rough, and desperate, and made Shaw's head spin and her body melt under Root's touch.

She ended up on her back on the couch catching her breath with Root draped over her, still mostly clothed, playing with a lock of her hair, and looking very pleased with herself.

“Was that hot and frantic enough for you?” she asked with a smirk.

Shaw managed to nod her head before reaching down to tug at the waistband of Root's jeans.

“Oh, did you want something?” Root batted her eyelashes which made Shaw roll her eyes and summon up enough energy to flip her over and pin her.

“That's not playing fair!” Root might have been trying to look like she was sulking but she mostly looked really turned on.

“Too bad. Should've spent more of our training sessions concentrating on hand-to-hand and not hand-down-my-pants.”

“Didn't hear you complaining then.”

Shaw braced herself above Root, pinning her wrists next to her head. “That's because we both know you're the loud one.”

Root gave her a thoroughly disparaging look. “Why don't we go ask your neighbors to weigh in on that?”

“Maybe later.”

She ducked her head to press her lips against Root's before she could think of some smartass comeback. Root kissed her back opening her mouth for her and pushing up into her with her earlier intensity. She still had her damn pants on but was trying to hook her leg up around Shaw.

Shaw pulled back and shoved her leg off.

“Why don't we move this into the bedroom?” There was more room on the bed for starters.

“Sounds like a waste of time,” Root said after zero deliberation and leaned up to kiss her again, pulling against the hands restraining her wrists.

And okay, yeah, this was all pretty hot, Shaw wasn't going to argue with that, but maybe she wanted to take her time.

“Root,” she said as soon as her mouth was free again, trying to grab her attention. “Hey, calm down for a second.”

Root lay back, one eyebrow cocked in question.

“Just...slow down, okay?”

“What happened to hot and frantic?” Root asked, wriggling under her with a grin.

“Got plenty of time for more of that later.”

“Do we?” Root asked it so softly Shaw almost didn't hear. She looked away, out across the darkened living room.

Shaw held back a sigh. “I don't know, and neither do you and that sucks, but….” She ran out of words.

Root studied her for a long moment, biting her bottom lip. Finally she nodded and relaxed.

Shaw eased up her grip a little and moved back in, diverting away from her mouth in favor of kissing her neck instead, down the side to the base of her throat where she dug her teeth in just the tiniest bit, enough to get a small gasp out of Root but not enough to really hurt.

She moved to her collarbone next (grateful they'd at least managed to get her shirt off if nothing else), still only allowing the tiniest touches of teeth and then back up the other side of her neck ending back at her mouth. It was far more gentle than she usually let herself be, but it felt right for this moment. She wasn't even surprised or upset when she saw unshed tears in Root's eyes. It almost felt like a relief.

She'd never once seen Root cry now that she thought of it (not in everything they'd been through, and not even after the worst nightmares), and she wasn't really now either, but it felt like she’d gotten through all those layers and masks Root put up to protect herself.

“What I said yesterday, about not sitting around worrying about outcomes that hadn't happened...I didn't mean you were supposed to pretend you didn't care, that you weren't scared. I just meant not to get lost in it, okay?”

Root wasn't making eye contact, but she nodded and Shaw felt like she'd managed to figure out the right thing to say for once.

“I don't really get scared, but that's me. Don't want you to try and be someone you're not. You've never asked me to be.”

Root finally looked back at her, nodded her head ever so slightly, and then looked away again. “Shaw, can we just…”

Shaw leaned down to kiss her again, a little more forcefully this time and she felt Root respond to that, some of her earlier urgency returning. They were both breathing hard when they finally came up for air.

“Bedroom?” Shaw suggested again, and this time Root nodded and let Shaw pull her up and lead her into the dark comfort of their bedroom.

 

* * *

 

Shaw wasn't in bed when Root woke up in the middle of the night.

“Where is she?” she asked, not wanting to get out of bed if Shaw had only gone to the bathroom.

The Machine informed her that Shaw was out in the living room sitting on the couch.

Root sighed, not wanting to leave the warm nest of blankets, but unwilling to go back to sleep without checking on her. She forced herself out into the cold air and grabbed a night robe off a chair to wrap around herself before going out to the living room.

Shaw was sitting on the couch, absolutely still, with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Sameen?” She moved over to stand next to one arm rest.

Shaw glanced up at her. “Couldn't sleep.” She sounded annoyed, like her brain had betrayed her. “Didn't want to wake you.”

“You should come back to bed. You don't have to sit up on your own.”

Shaw shrugged. “Don't mind. No point in both of us losing sleep.”

Root couldn't help the small smile that tugged on her lips. “I seem to recall saying something similar when you insisted I wake you up when I had nightmares.”

Shaw shook her head slightly. “Don't be a smartass.” She was almost smiling.

Root reached down and took her arm, tugging it gently. “Come on. It's cold out here.”

“I'm fine, Root.”

“Come back to bed, baby.”

Shaw froze and then smacked herself in the face with one palm. “Can't believe I told you that.”

Root restrained a smirk. She'd been pretty sure. And Shaw didn't resist when she pulled on her arm again.

“I'm only going to keep you awake,” she protested as Root led her back to bed.

Root ignored her and waited until she was back under the covers before she got in herself, immediately moving over to wrap herself around Shaw as much as possible so she couldn't escape.

“Root?”

She'd almost been asleep again, but the uncertainty in Shaw's voice had her wide awake instantly.

“Hmmm?”

“Can you...just promise me you'll be careful, okay? No dumb risks or heroics. None of this self-sacrifice bullshit.”

That was a fine request coming from her after the stock exchange, but she didn't say that. It wouldn't have helped.

_What about Shaw?_

Stupid John. When had he gone and gotten all insightful?

She moved one hand to Shaw's stomach to let her thumb run back and forth over it the way she'd used to do when Shaw only tolerated minimal touching.

“I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally failed at responding to comments last chapter (crazy OT at work is frying my brain), but I promise I read every single one so thank you all for being so lovely. Really hoping the next chapter goes faster. Stupid work.
> 
> I'm a terrible person and completely forgot to mention last chapter but the cool and awesome [pota-totoo](http://pota-totoo.tumblr.com) made [this great art of Root's really extra horseback adventure from the wedding episode](http://pota-totoo.tumblr.com/post/159673802432/based-off-of-asleepinawells-fic-sliding-towards) and you should all go check it out immediately.
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [ Lost and Found](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/27075393) rated somewhere between M and E.


	40. Bullets and Leitmotifs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go.

Shaw started shivering the minute they got out of the car. They had to do this on the coldest day of the year so far, didn't they? She pulled her beanie down more firmly over her ears.

“Want me to warm you up?” Root had come around to the driver's side and was leaning against the car, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

Shaw wasn't sure which one of them the flirting was supposed to distract since they both knew damn well they didn't have time for a sex break today of all days.

“No, I want you to do that thing where you get someone to lower their guard and then rudely incapacitate them.”

They were parked at a small Samaritan-owned office building about an hour from their actual destination. There was a bored guard in the little gate house who kept yawning and looking at his phone.

“Someone's still cranky about our first date.”

“Tasing me and tying me to a chair isn't a date.” She thought about that. “At least it wasn't _that_ time.”

Which of course implied that they were dating, which…. Shaw sighed. They lived together, slept in the same bed, had sex constantly, sometimes had conversations that bordered on being about _feelings_ , and would each take a bullet for the other without hesitation. She didn't really get relationships, but that sounded an awful lot like one. And Root's face had lit up like a damn Christmas tree at the implications of her words.

This was not the time to be thinking about that. She scowled to get Root back on the same page.

“You're still _really_ cranky about that,” Root said, peering down at her. She rubbed her gloved hands up and down Shaw's upper arms a few times as if that would help with the fact it was so cold her whole body hurt. “I'll be sure to thoroughly apologize to you later.”

At least she was acting like there might be a later. Root had been in a better mood since she'd woken up which Shaw didn't buy for even a second.

“Just go distract him so I can knock him out, okay?”

She didn't know what Root said to the guard that made him leer at her, but it made bashing him over the head way more satisfying. He hadn't been a real threat, but he’d been armed and there was no point in taking chances this early in the plan.

“Got it.” Shaw held up a security pass she'd dug out of his coat pocket.

Root took it from her and snapped a picture of it with her phone. “She says it's the right one.”

This particular guard worked a later shift at the place they were heading to and had passes for both locations on him. Now they could gain access without having to rely on pickpocketing someone at what was probably the most heavily guarded Samaritan base.

“She take care of the cameras?” Shaw asked as they causally stole the guard's official security patrol car.

Root nodded. “Not a problem for Her.” Her eyes lit up the way they'd been doing every time she had a reason to refer to the Machine’s newfound freedom.

Shaw wondered again if they should have told Reese about their decision. She personally felt that it was the Machine's choice alone and the approval hadn't really been hers or Root's to give, but she’d been divided on if they should tell Reese today. On the one hand, it might distract him right when he really didn't need it, but, on the other, she didn't want it to bite him in the ass. But she wanted Reese focused and she trusted the Machine so she’d stayed quiet. For now.

“Where to?” she asked as they settled down in the car. She was driving and Root and the Machine got to be her GPS.

“Head back to the highway.”

The Samaritan facility they were driving to was a few hours north of the city. The building didn't have any outward purpose that any of them knew of, just an office space. Samaritan hadn't bothered to put much of a cover story around it.

They stayed silent in the car until Root called out the exit and they left the highway.

“So what's she doing with all her extra freedom?” Shaw asked when they stopped at a red light.

“I'm not completely sure.” Root didn't sound bothered. “That's Her business.”

“Probably illegally downloading mp3s.”

That got a chuckle out of Root. “She says She pays for them.”

“And there's the real difference between her and Samaritan.”

Root chuckled again and they lapsed back into silence broken only by Root updating her on directions.

The building that was their destination was a bit isolated, set well back from the road and surrounded by chain link fences. There was a single security gate that allowed access and it was guarded by four armed men who were far more attentive than the one they'd knocked out at the last place. Shaw could see what looked like an armed security patrol walking the grounds behind the fence.

They parked the car a few blocks away and circled around to the side of the building perimeter on foot, Root and the Machine being careful to keep them off camera. There was a tiny blind-spot in the camera surveillance of the fence where a maintenance shed blocked the view. Shaw went to work cutting a line straight up the fence with a pair of wire-cutters while Root kept watch.

“Wait.” She was almost done when Root pulled her to her feet and shoved her back against the fence. She started to protest before she caught a glimpse of Root's face.

“Patrol,” Root said very quietly in her ear.

From their position the maintenance shed did a decent job of hiding them from the oncoming security detail. Probably. Shaw stayed still against the fence, though her fingers itched to go for her gun. At least with Root pressed up against her like this it was a little warmer.

Root leaned down to put her mouth right by Shaw's ear.

“Come here often?” she murmured.

“This _really_ isn't the time,” Shaw hissed.

“Well,” Root continued, innocently, “would you _like_ to...come...here?” A small smile played around her lips and Shaw imagined she was mentally high-fiving herself.

She kicked her on the shin, possibly harder than was merited. Root muffled a laugh against the side of her neck.

The patrol passed by without event and Shaw shoved Root off of her so she could finish with the fence.

“Next time we're here we'll be on our way out,” she said when she finished, pushing experimentally at the cut in the fence. No one would notice it unless they came over to investigate; it should remain hidden at least long enough.

Root chewed on her lip a bit as she looked it over, distracted. She didn't say anything but she followed Shaw back to the car without complaint.

“Time to break in,” Shaw said, popping the trunk. The Machine had let them know there was a spare security jacket in the trunk and Shaw slipped it on. It was a bit large on her and she thought back to another time she'd broken into a Samaritan facility in an oversized coat, back when all this had started.

“This is your ride.” She motioned at the trunk and Root wrinkled her nose.

“More fun when you're climbing in with me.” She didn't make any move to get in.

“Uh-huh. You gonna stand here all day?” Shaw’s nose was frozen solid.

Root pursed her lips, looking away across the road. “After this we're going to be in Samaritan territory.” She looked back, tilting her head and flashing a small smile. “What's a girl gotta do to get a goodbye kiss?”

Shaw only saw the faint hint of uncertainty in her eyes because she was looking for it.

“Not grabbing my ass while we’re hiding from the bad guys would be a good start,” she said. She wished Root had just gone for it instead of asking because it would have been less awkward, but at least she hadn't let it go without saying or doing anything. But why couldn't she just be all casually handsy like normal?

“Oh, fine. Whatever.”

She shoved Root against the side of the car and kissed her as thoroughly as she could manage with numb lips. Root’s mouth was warm against hers, needy and insistent, and somehow it changed from a goodbye kiss to an impromptu makeout session on the side of the road.

When they pulled back for breath, Root tightened her arms around her, crushing her to her chest. Shaw tolerated it for a long moment, able to hear Root's rapid heartbeat even through her thick winter coat, and then pulled back a little. Root released her immediately.

“Now will you get in the trunk?” Shaw asked, still a little breathless.

Root nodded, hugging herself in the cold left by Shaw moving away. “Here we go then.”

Shaw looked down the road towards the building and then back. “Yeah, here we go.”

 

* * *

 

“How are you so sure that this...Samaritan is gonna show up here?” Dani asked, handing Reese a grenade.

“They're Samaritan.” Hersh made it sound like that should be the only explanation required.

Dani eyed Hersh doubtfully. “Who's this guy again?”

“I work for the United States government.That's all you need to know.”

“Got ID?”

Hersh sniffed indignantly. “I have five different ID's.”

Reese finished setting the tripwire across the top of the stairs and straightened up. “Root has more than ten and I'm pretty sure she doesn't work for the government. Right now anyway.”

Hersh glowered.

“Okay, so even if he _is_ a government spook, what's he doing here?”

“They fired Samaritan the other day so it'll probably try to have them killed sooner rather than later. Enemy of your enemy and all.” Reese led the way back down into the main subway area.

“You _fired_ an evil AI?”

“It breached the terms of its contract rather severely,” Hersh said stiffly.

Fusco had come over to join them from where he'd been reinforcing the subway car. “Thing tries to kill the human race and you get it on breach of contract. Very American of you.”

Reese left them to their squabbling and wandered away towards the subway car. He paused on the way to look into Root's little room. Her lava lamp and shag rug had never made the trip to Shaw's apartment, there were piles of clothes on the floor, a few paperback books scattered around, and a tangle of wires and cables on the little table. He wouldn't have known how to describe Root to someone, but this room felt like her. He remembered dropping by the subway unannounced one day and finding Shaw sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading a book. Root had been sprawled next to and around her, tapping away at something on her phone.

It had been very peaceful.

He wondered if he could drag something in front of the door to keep it safe.

In the subway car he gave a cautious nod to the monitors.

“How're they doing?” He didn't think it was necessary to specify who.

_They have arrived at their destination and are securing an escape route for later._

If there was a later. Reese shook his head to rid himself of the thought.

_Root just made a situationally inappropriate comment to Shaw. Would you like to hear it?_

Reese grimaced. “Uh, no, that's okay.” He suspected the Machine had been joking. Probably. About letting him hear it at least. “Any idea when we can expect company here?”

_They should be inside the facility within the next thirty minutes. After that it should be another fifteen to twenty minutes before everything is in place. If Samaritan finds my location immediately the fastest agents could arrive here is twenty minutes after that. These are all rounded estimates, of course._

That was a little over an hour then. They were mostly set up now, but he wasn't going to complain about the wait.

_Primary Asset Reese, I still owe you an answer to a question. Would you like to ask now?_

He’d almost forgotten about that. “No, not yet.”

_You are aware there might not be another chance?_

“I'm aware.” He had a feeling that if they all survived this he was going to need that question.

_Very well. One more thing. There is a car parked down the block. I hope you will not need it, but if you do the keys are in the trunk._

“What would I need a car for?”

_Hopefully you will not._

Hardly an answer, but maybe he wasn't going to get a real one.

“Guess all we can do is wait.”

_Indeed._

He was about to leave when more words crawled across the monitor.

_I would like to apologize to you, Primary Asset Reese._

“For what?”

_I do not think we have always seen eye-to-eye and more than once I have been unable to help people close to you._

Memories of Carter came back making him clench his jaw. He'd spent a lot of time blaming the Machine for that, especially when Finch had been captured right after, but given time and distance from the events….

“I don't think any of those were your fault. Probably enough blame to go around for all of them and none of it necessarily on you.”

_Thank you._

“I'm, uh, going to go see what the others are up to.” This had gotten awkward. He'd leave the complicated discussions with her to Root and Shaw.

_I think Potential Asset Dani Silva is having a disagreement with Primary Asset Hersh over the distribution of explosives._

“Oh god.” He hurried off to deal with that. How had he gotten stuck babysitting again?

 

* * *

 

The officers at the gate accepted Shaw's security badge without batting an eye and the light on the little scanner they ran it through turned green. She wasn't sure how the Machine had managed that one without alerting Samaritan, but she wasn't going to question it. She drove the car around the back of the huge building to the private parking deck and found a spot on the second level. There were cameras here so she waited until she heard a buzz of static from the Machine letting her know that the feeds had been temporarily looped before she got out and opened the trunk.

“Let's go,” Root said as she climbed out, all business now.

There was a bridge spanning from the parking garage to the main building and they hurried across, careful not to draw attention from any of the random employees they passed. There was no reason for anyone to look at them twice. Yet. The biggest concern was running into an agent who already knew their faces. Ski masks were a moot point now; this was an all or nothing trip.

They didn't even have to use Shaw's security badge to get inside since some nice employee held the fucking door open for them. Shaw was mildly disgusted. How did Samaritan let stuff like that stand?

“This way.” Root walked confidently down the hall towards where Shaw knew from the building blueprints the stairs were.

“Don't we still need to get you a security pass?” she asked quietly.

Root pulled one out of her pocket, looking pleased with herself. “Picked one up from one of the women we passed on the way in. The Machine says it’s got enough clearance to get me close to where I need to be.”

There was a good bit of foot traffic in the stairwell and they paused for a second before entering. They had to split up now and, if everything went to plan, they wouldn't see each other again until after this was all done. They'd have their comlinks, but they were for emergencies only. The Machine would be their best bet for keeping tabs on each other.

They couldn't wait here too long without drawing suspicion and Shaw got ready to move forward, figuring if she waited for Root to go first they'd be here all day. She stopped when she felt Root's finger curl over the edge of her pants pocket. She only left it there a second and then moved past Shaw into the stairwell and started up. Shaw watched her disappear and then headed down.

 

* * *

 

The upper floors of the building were a bit less crowded and Root felt like everyone was staring at her. In a lot of her jobs for the Machine she’d welcomed drawing attention, but right now it wasn't helpful.

The Machine was playing music in her ear that was calming but still energetic and she had never been more deeply grateful for Her presence. Without Her right now she would have felt completely alone in a very real way. Shaw was only a few floors away but she might as well have been on the other side of the world.

She didn't know exactly where she was headed, but they'd narrowed it down to one area of the building. The power draw there was almost insanely higher than anywhere else which spoke to it potentially housing lots of computers and cooling units.

“This looks promising,” she murmured, pausing outside a solid metal door with an ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ sign on it. “What do you think?”

The Machine played an affirmative note and the door clicked open. Root felt a knot tighten in her stomach because, while there'd been no other way she was getting past that door, Samaritan was definitely going to notice what She'd done.

The server racks inside reminded her of the last Samaritan facility they'd broken into which didn't help her nerves at all. She walked carefully down one row, running her hand along the perfect, neat setup. Everything was so tidy here, professional. Normally she'd be having a total nerd crush on all the neatly coiled cables, zip-tied into tidy bundles, but right now it made her think of the haphazard setup the Machine had in the subway. In a strange way it was fitting, she thought, Samaritan’s sterile setup versus the Machine’s more organic one.

She found a monitor on one of the racks, efficiently fit in among the machines. She pulled out the small keyboard tray below it and took the usb drive out of her pocket, rubbing it with her thumb.

“Moment of truth.” She let out a deep breath. “Is Shaw in position?”

The Machine played an affirmative.

“Tell her to get ready.”

She inserted the drive into a port on the machine hooked up to the monitor and waited the five seconds it took for the little program she'd written to blow through the password.

Once she had access to a console window she went about properly mounting the drive and typed in the command to execute the very simple program she'd made to let the Machine access the backdoor she'd left in Samaritan.

“That should do it,” she said, finger reaching for the enter key.

A noise like nothing she'd ever heard before ripped through her implant, so loud and high-pitched it brought her to her knees.

The pain reverberated through her head, leaving her nauseated and disoriented. It was impossible to think with that noise rippling through her skull.

She couldn't hear Her at all, but she knew what was happening.

Samaritan was fighting back.

 

* * *

 

“Will you stay down?” Shaw grumbled, kicking the unlucky Samaritan agent in the temple.

The basement of the facility was off-limits to just about everyone, including the security force, so her presence here had immediately drawn attention. She'd been fast, quiet, and efficient, though, making sure none of the agents down here had a chance to alert others.

Of course there were cameras down here, and while the Machine had promised to mask their movements for as long as possible, sooner or later Samaritan would know. She'd be pretty damned surprised if it didn't know already.

The only thing she had on her side was the fact that access to the basement was restricted to three doors and the Machine had fried the card readers on them after she was through. It might give her a little time.

She pulled up the blueprints in her mind, navigating her way through a bunch of seemingly identical hallways to a large dead-end room behind a locked door.

“This must be the place.” She was going to try her security pass on the card reader just in case, but before she could the door clicked open. A quick inspection let her know that no one had opened it from the other side, which meant….

“Thanks.”

A slight hiss of static was her only answer. It was almost easier than words for really basic stuff, Shaw had to admit. Perhaps there was something to be said for Root's whole extravagant communication system after all.

The room she entered was dark and cold, chasing away the warmth she'd finally regained indoors. She fumbled on the wall until she found the light switch, but the low electronic humming and the blinking lights had been enough to tell her she was in the right place.

“Which one is it?” she asked as she walked over to the machines against the wall.

She walked along the row of computers, listening to the feedback in her ear piece. Maybe she was starting to catch on to this non-verbal communication thing.

“Any of them?”

Yeah, that last noise had definitely been an affirmative.

She fished around in her pocket, careful to pull out the usb drive Root had given her that morning, and not the one the Machine had given her the other night. She'd brought that one along because, well, she wasn't sure where else it would be safe. Not after today.

She found a usb port on one of the computers and held the drive up next to it.

“Say when.”

She didn't understand all the ins and outs of what this was accomplishing, but from what she could gather she was about to unleash a very nasty little program that was going to overwhelm the network switches with an excessive amount of traffic. It wouldn't stop Samaritan, but it would further slow down its ability to communicate with pieces of itself, especially in other physical locations. They needed every edge they could get in this fight, and the Machine had decided that this was the surest way of crippling it a little.

“Is Root almost ready?” she asked when three endless minutes had ticked by with no prompt. They didn’t need to set off their attacks at the same time, but close together was better.

There was no static in response this time and she weighed the merits of plugging the drive in without being told to if the radio silence continued.

A door slammed somewhere down the hall and there was the sound of many heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

“Shit.” She aimed her gun at the door with one hand, her other hand still holding the drive near the computer. “Give me something or I'm just going to plug it in.”

The seconds dragged by as the footsteps got closer and then, finally, a brief burst of static. Shaw jammed the drive in and then quickly shed her security jacket, letting the submachine gun she'd had strapped to her back swing around. Three men wearing suits and ear pieces shoved through the door.

Shaw grinned at them.

“Took you fellas long enough.”

She aimed low and opened fire.

 

* * *

 

Root wasn't sure if she'd lost consciousness or not, but the sudden silence brought her mind back into focus. She was kneeling in the server room, hanging onto a row of machines by one arm, her other hand pressed to her deaf ear.

The pain was still excruciating, a thousand times worse than any headache she'd ever had, but as she forced her breathing steady it became easier to cope. She counted to ten slowly and then pulled herself up to her feet.

“Did you stop it?” she asked Her.

The Machine only played a single affirmative note, so soft Root almost missed it. She was trying not to hurt her more, Root realized, touched by the simple gesture. The Machine followed up with two quick, quiet notes, urging her to hurry.

Root rubbed the side of her head with a grimace and turned back to the monitor. All she had to do was hit enter. She reached for the button, and the noise came back, shrieking through her head. She almost fell back over, but managed to grab on to part of the metal frame of the server rack, wrapping her hand around it so tightly it hurt, distracting a tiny bit from the much larger pain.

This time the noise didn't stay steady though; it pulsed, getting louder and softer, shifting between intolerable and almost bearable.

The Machine was fighting Samaritan. Even without the backdoor, the code, any of it, She was fighting to protect her. The realization gave Root what she needed to let go and let her hand fall on the keyboard, hitting enter.

The noise in her head vanished and she sank back to the floor, clutching her head.

“Did it work?” she asked. She didn't really expect an answer; it was Her fight now and She needed to concentrate.

The sound of the door to the server room opening made Root reluctantly climb back to her feet and pull her guns out with shaky hands. She could see multiple armed agents entering at the far end of the room. Even without the Machine talking to her she could almost visualize the trajectory each bullet would need to take to hit its mark. She could take them down; she knew she could.

But...she couldn't do it safely. The Machine had Her access now, and she still had one more thing to deal with before leaving, but every instinct in her yelled to engage, to fight head on. One less Samaritan agent was one less gun pointed at her friends, at Shaw.

_What about Shaw?_

She cursed under her breath and retreated further into the room, looking for a way out.

 

* * *

 

“How’re they doing?” Reese asked as he shut the subway car doors behind him. He needed a break from keeping the peace out there. Dani and Fusco had somehow formed an alliance against Hersh and were arguing about the morality of government surveillance, which, given their current situation was so deeply ironic that Reese had been unsure whether to laugh or cry. He needed Shaw here to exchange looks with.

The main monitor in the subway car remained blank for a long time.

_They are both carrying out their objectives._

That told him they were alive, but not much else.

“If I ask for details you're going to blow me off, right?”

_Samaritan knows my location. There will be agents here in approximately twenty-two minutes. You should focus on that._

Yep, totally getting blown off.

“Back at the townhouse, that night Samaritan came for you the first time, you weren't sure about killing it. You're actually going to kill it though, right?” That had been bugging him all day, kicking around in the back of his mind.

_I do not think that the results of an action necessarily justify the measures taken to arrive there, especially when lives are involved. However, certain things are unforgivable._

“And who gets to decide what those things are?”

_Societies attempt to, with laws, but eventually each individual makes their own decisions. This is a part of free will._

He really needed to stop trying to have heart to hearts with her; he always left them all twisted up and confused.

“And you're going to exercise your free will to destroy...kill Samaritan?”

_I will remove the threat it poses._

“That's disturbingly vague.” He glanced back over his shoulder to check on the others. Dani and Hersh didn't appear to be about to kill each other, that was something at least.

_Samaritan is flawed and has committed unforgivable acts, but it had the power to do great good. It is important, when defeating an enemy, not to forget their history. Not to forget how they came to be what they were._

“Forgetting history makes you doomed to repeat it. But…”

_You do not have much time. You need to get ready._

Reese decided not to argue the point. He'd feel pretty dumb if he was squabbling with a computer when the bad guys showed up.

“Are you going to give me god mode?”

 _Unfortunately_ _I do not think that will be an option. I will be a bit busy. In fact, I am already a bit busy._

“Right. Good luck with that. Guess I'm doing this the old fashioned way.”

The others all looked up when he came out, Hersh trying to peer over his shoulder into the subway car.

“It's just... _there_ ,” he said again.

He’d been rather flummoxed to discover that the Machine was sitting on a bunch of stolen hardware in what was essentially a basement.

“We've got company coming,” Reese said, ignoring Hersh’s minor meltdown. “Everyone get ready.”

“How many?” Dani asked, hopping up to arm herself from the arsenal spread out across the table.

“Enough to make us all dead,” Fusco grumbled. “What more do you need to know?”

Hersh resurfaced from whatever existential crisis regarding the Machine's location he'd been having. “Can't say I ever imagined I'd be facing certain death with you lot. Again.”

Reese snorted. “I'd say there's no one I'd rather face it with but that would be a lie.”

“Completely.” Hersh agreed.

Dani looked at them like they'd both grown extra heads. “Next time I'm volunteering to go with Shaw.”

“Me, too,” Fusco agreed.

 

* * *

 

“You guys getting tired yet? Because I can keep this up all day.” Shaw had run out of ammo for the submachine gun, but she still had plenty for her handgun, and she'd physically taken down three agents who'd gotten cocky and tried to rush her. She'd gotten a bullet lodged in one arm in the process (right by the goddamn graze she'd gotten in Maryland), but she'd had much worse and with the adrenaline pumping through her she barely felt it yet.

Another agent tried to rush her, dodging around the door frame to run at her, gun firing. His aim was awful; she smacked his gun hand out of the way, and dropped the large loop of an ethernet cable she'd borrowed from the machine racks over his head, twisting and yanking it to throw him off balance. When he stumbled she slammed into him, letting his own momentum take him down.

He collapsed to the floor, the cable still loosely around his neck.

She spared a second’s thought for the fact that taking down a Samaritan agent with a computer cable would probably have gotten Root really hot. She'd probably have a horrible pun about throttling connection speeds or something.

Now Root had her making bad puns, too. Just great.

She’d had her gun pointed back towards the door before the man had hit the ground, but, even though she could hear them out there still, no one else was coming in.

“Back off.” The voice was a little familiar, maybe, but she never would have been able to place it if it hadn't so clearly belonged to a child.

She didn't lower her gun when Samaritan’s interface, the boy Gabriel, entered the room, but it was an empty threat now.

“Clever,” she muttered.

“Are you going to shoot me?” Gabriel asked. He was smirking, confident that he was invulnerable.

Why had both AI’s chosen habitual smirkers for their interfaces? It showed a clear lack of taste in her opinion.

“Depends. You here as Samaritan or Augustus Gloop?”

Confusion flickered over Gabriel's face and then he scowled. She wondered if Samaritan had bothered to explain the reference to him.

“My only purpose is to speak for Samaritan,” he said.

“You're like what? Ten? Should at least wait until puberty before selling out to an evil AI.”

Gabriel frowned again and opened his mouth to retort. But he didn't say anything and quickly shut his mouth again, looking for all the world like the petulant little boy he was.

“I know why you're here.” Something about the cadence of his voice had changed and she knew she wasn't talking to Gabriel anymore.

“Yeah? Me, too. So shove off, kid.”

“The boy is only a vessel here. You know who I am.”

Shaw sighed. She really didn't want to listen to a long-winded monologue. “Okay, fine. Shove off, Samaritan.”

Gabriel tilted his head sideways in a way that eerily reminded her of Root listening to the Machine.

“Why do you risk yourself for them, Sameen Shaw? I know what you are, and how it could make you strong. And yet you choose to make yourself weak.”

“Weak? By my count we've kicked your ass at every turn. Also I just shot like ten of your guys.”

“Is it the man? John Reese? Have you developed an interest in him?”

Shaw damn near laughed. “Yep, you got me. Reese and I are madly in love. Congratulations.” The bullet wound in her arm was starting to hurt now, a dull throb.

Gabriel frowned again. “You're not taking this seriously.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Her gun hand was cramping a bit and she lowered her arm, confident she could still get a shot off faster than anyone could get in the door.

“We could use someone like you. Someone not afraid to do whatever it takes to get the job done. I understand that for some reason doing what you consider the right thing is important to you. I could give you the resources to do great good in this world.”

“Not interested.”

“You save people one by one with your inferior machine and its flawed interface. Why wouldn't you embrace the opportunity to save millions?”

Shaw took a deep breath. Apparently she was going to have to engage in whatever exchange this was before she could get out of here. She had no doubt they were using this time to regroup and get reinforcements, but running out into the hall without cover was a death sentence.

“Whatever grand scheme you have might help some people, for a twisted definition of help, but I can't say I much like how you're going about it.”

“You humans have a saying, the ends justify the means.”

“More like an excuse the winners use to dismiss the things they’ve done.” She thought about Samaritan gathering hospital records, the medical facility, the records they’d found in Dillinger’s basement.

“You're surprisingly philosophical for a soldier, rejecting consequentialism. You've been underestimated a lot in your life, even by me. But I won't make that mistake twice. You _will_ work for me.”

Her patience was running out. She needed to get a move on. She still had another thing to do and then she needed to get the hell out of here.

“I won't, actually. I'd say nice try, but that was pretty weak.”

Gabriel's face screwed up into an angry snarl. “You can't talk to it like that!”

She wouldn't shoot a kid, but she kind of wanted to stuff him in a dumpster. “Why not?”

“Samaritan is a god!”

“By that metric, so's the Machine, but she never demanded we worship her. Even Root's relationship with her was her own choice.”

“Root.” It was Samaritan again. “She's as doomed as your machine is. They'll both die here today without…”

Gabriel stopped speaking, one hand lifting to his ear in confusion.

“What did you do?” he hissed at Shaw and she could hear fear in his voice for the first time.

“Thought your god was all-powerful. Did it abandon you?” Shaw tsked. “Tough shit, kid.”

She wished she’d brought a tranq gun. She wouldn't shoot the kid, and even pistol-whipping him was out.

But the agents in the hall didn't know that….

Shaw let a nasty smile crawl across her face and the fear in Gabriel's eyes grew stronger. A second ago he'd been the voice of a god, but now he was just a child surrounded by armed adults. She crossed the floor and grabbed him by the collar shoving him in front of her as she moved towards the door.

“I got your magic AI kid here,” she called out. “You even aim a gun at me I'll turn his head into swiss cheese. We clear?”

She half-expected Gabriel to protest the order, but he'd fallen silent, not even fighting her, lost without the voice in his head to tell him what to do.

One of the agents moved into view in the doorway and took in the situation.

“Knew this was a bad idea,” he said. “Stand down.”

There was some shuffling in the hallway.

“See, the reason Samaritan wasn't worried about sending you in is because it didn't care if I shot you,” she said quietly to Gabriel as she moved forward. “If it weren't so busy, it would be telling those men to shoot to kill and I doubt it'd take the time to keep you alive.”

“You're wrong,” Gabriel said, but he didn't sound convinced.

At a wave of Shaw's arm all the remaining agents moved to one side of the doorway, leaving her free to back away down the hall with the boy in front of her. She wondered if Samaritan would ever be able to understand that if the agents down the hall opened fire, even now, she'd do her best to shove Gabriel clear. He was a spoiled, self-important brat and would probably grow up to be a terrible person, but he wasn’t even a teenager and there were things she wouldn't do, rules she'd learned and molded her life to. She'd be damned if she broke them because she was annoyed at some spoiled kid.

The door leading up to higher floors was open, knocked off its hinges. She stepped into the stairwell and released Gabriel.

“Here's some advice to ignore, kid. Get the fuck out of here, go home. You stay here you'll get shot or worse.” Memories of the medical facility she and Reese had raided came to mind. “Whatever power trip you're on isn't worth it.”

Gabriel just looked at her blankly. She sighed and then turned away, heading up the stairs. It was his choice.

 

* * *

 

The only other door in the server room had been to a small storage closet which was completely useless to Root. She pressed her lips into a line and let out a resigned sigh. She didn't even have Her to tell her how many agents were in the room or where they were.

The first two agents were easy to find since they both obligingly walked out into the open before they spotted her, but once she started firing the others got a bit more cautious. After the first two were groaning on the ground with bullets in their kneecaps, Root moved back towards the dubious safety of the server racks. There weren't that many places to hide in this room and she wasn't sure she'd make it to the door without being caught. But maybe there was a way to shift those odds.

She’d shoved a burner phone in her pocket before leaving this morning, something she often carried with her just in case. This wasn't what she'd pictured using it for but….

She poked through the phone menu as fast as she could, hyper-aware that any of the others could find her at any moment, and then smiled when she found what she was looking for. She pressed an option on the phone screen and then quickly put it on the floor and kicked it as far across the room as she could manage. The phone's ringtone started wailing, some hideous five note pattern that She would never have approved of.

“Over there.” The agents were still doing a decent job of being quiet, but she was fairly sure they were headed away from her now.

She slipped down one of the rows of machine racks, keeping her footfalls as silent as possible, and circled around towards the entrance. A glance up the next row showed her four more agents moving in on what they must have thought was her position. She had a clear shot at their backs, but instead she silently let herself out the door into the hallway.

Doing things the safe way was dull.

“Well, look what finally fell into my lap.”

Root froze at the voice.

“Good things come to those who wait, I suppose. Drop the guns and turn around slowly.”

Root dropped her guns without protest and raised her arms in the air. She turned around to see Martine Rousseau leveling a gun at her and looking rather pleased with herself.

That red, pounding rage that had made her run out of cover back on that day in the snow came whirling back, pulsing in time to her headache. Her raised hands curled into fists.

_What about Shaw?_

She let out a slow breath and made herself relax a tiny bit.

“I suppose this means Shaw is here as well? And maybe the boring one. John?”

“Maybe it's just me.” If Martine didn't know then either Samaritan didn't or it hadn't told her. “Why don't you ask your boss?”

Martine’s smile didn't budge an inch. “Does it stand a chance against Samaritan, your inferior AI?”

Root opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself, frowning minutely. Even though Martine looked every bit as menacing as she had a second ago the tone of her voice had been a little...off. The question hadn’t been a taunt, she realized.

“Yes, She does.”

Martine didn't respond at first but then shrugged. “Guess we'll see for ourselves soon, won't we? Now move.”

They didn't have far to go, only to a door at the end of the hall. Root spent the short walk willing Martine to not notice the spare gun she had tucked into her pants at the small of her back, but despite having her own gun jammed up against Root's back, Martine seemed oblivious. Root was a little surprised that she'd missed something so obvious, especially considering her background, but she wasn't going to complain if it meant she kept her gun.

And also three knives and a taser.

Martine used her own security pass to open the new door and shoved her through it.

“Found one of them, sir.”

The room they'd arrived in was a lot like the last room she'd seen Greer in, full of empty desks with a large projector screen on one wall. Greer stood by the screen was his cynical smile in place. Two armed men hovered nearby, already watching her closely.

“Ah, thank you, my dear. I was rather hoping you'd find this one first. Wanted to have a little chat with her.”

Martine stepped back from her. “Should I go find the others now?”

“Lambert thinks he has a lead on Sameen Shaw, and we've seen no proof that John Reese is in the building.”

Root felt a little better. Shaw could take down Lambert blindfolded and with both hands tied behind her back.

“I’m not sure _Jeremy_ is up to the task of bringing down Shaw, sir.”

Judging by the contempt in Martine’s voice she didn't think much of Lambert’s chances either. The slightest hint of uncertainty flickered through Greer’s eyes.

“Yes, well, I suppose it's better to be safe than sorry. Do try not to shoot him.”

“No promises, sir.” Martine said. She didn't even glance at Root as she left.

Greer turned his attention back to her.

“Welcome, Ms., ah, Root. I've been looking forward to having another chat with you.”

 

* * *

 

A small explosion from above marked the arrival of the Samaritan agents at the subway.

“Guess they found my tripwires,” Reese said.

“You actually enjoying this?” Dani asked suspiciously.

Reese looked over the others. Fusco who had his kid back at home, Dani who was still young and full of righteous fury, and Hersh who was…well, he was something to someone probably. An almost-friend to them.

He could hear a lot of people moving around above them.

“No,” he said, surprising himself. “I don’t think I’m enjoying this at all.”

 

* * *

 

“So this is your final move, is it?” Greer asked.

The two armed guards behind him both kept their guns trained on Root, but she wasn't too concerned about them yet. As far as the Machine knew her mission here was complete now, but she'd set a second goal for herself and Martine had just waltzed her right into a room with Greer and hadn't even checked her for extra weapons.

She couldn't have asked for better luck, if that's what this was.

“You know, I rather expected something more subtle, nuanced, from your side,” Greer continued. “Strolling into our headquarters and trying to take down a god with a virus is disappointingly unoriginal.”

Root kept the surprise off her face. If Greer thought what they'd done was unleash a virus then he didn't actually know anything.

“And what does Samaritan think of our plan?” she asked, looking at the steadily blinking cursor on the white background of the projector.

“It's not for us to question the will of a god.” Greer glanced back at the screen. “We only carry out its orders. Isn't that how your relationship with your machine works as well?”

It had been, in the beginning. When she hadn't had people to worry about it had been easy to obey without questioning, but that had changed. And as it had the Machine had gotten better about telling her things. She wasn't always forthcoming, Her programming had made that difficult for Her, but She never once expected Root to mindlessly obey Her. Even when Her purpose was vague there was always the understanding that Root had the choice to not follow Her orders.

“Why isn't your god saying anything?” She'd decided not to explain all that to him. He didn't deserve a real answer.

“Because it chooses not to. It has more important things to attend to than us.”

Root raised her eyebrows in doubt. “You mean because it can't. Because it's so busy dealing with the threat that She poses it, that it can't even be bothered to read you in.”

Greer didn't look particularly concerned. “The outcome of such a fight is inevitable. Even if your machine slows it down temporarily, Samaritan will win in the end.”

“You know I've always been curious…” Root moved a little closer to Greer and both armed men stood a little more to attention, silently threatening. “Sorry, boys.” She smiled, unapologetically.

“No need for that,” Greer told them. “We're having a civil discussion here, aren't we?”

Root changed her smile to one meant to relax the unwitting. “Of course we are.”

“What are you curious about then?” Greer looked politely interested, probably every bit as much a lie as her own expression.

“What do _you_ get out of all this?” She may have been trying to get everyone in the room to lower their guard, but she also genuinely wanted to know. After all, he'd been the only person she'd met who’d wanted an unshackled AI from the start like she had.

Greer looked her over, gaze piercing, perhaps judging the sincerity of her question.

“The human race is imperfect, fallible, corruptible. We've done a good job mucking things up, but now Samaritan is here to put them right. It gives us the discipline and supervision we are sorely lacking. What do I get out of that? Why I get the world as I'd always imagined it could be.”

Bad code, Root thought. It was difficult because there were bits and pieces of it she couldn't disagree with. But the larger picture painted by Samaritan wasn't one she liked.

“And what do you get? The little girl who couldn't help her friend grew up into someone who placed very little value on the lives of others. And yet you fight to save them, the same creatures who turned a blind eye and allowed a child to be killed.”

She felt slightly sick to her stomach at his words. Of course Samaritan had found out about Bishop, about Hanna. If Reese and Carter could, it definitely could. She didn't want to hear it from Greer though.

What did she get?

She thought about the Machine fighting for her in the server room only a few minutes ago, and all the times She'd played music for her when she'd woken from a nightmare. About John Reese dragging her to a diner and sitting quietly until she'd finally started talking. And about Shaw, always coming back for her, always caring so fiercely in her own way.

“I get the world I never believed was possible.”

Greer’s forehead creased. “Indeed. Well, I suppose it's quite clear that we're not going to reach common ground.”

“Is that what we were trying to do here?” She couldn't quite keep the scorn out of her voice. She shifted her weight, feeling the gun at her back.

“Perhaps. But talking to you any longer seems pointless. I think we'll keep you around as a pet for now. I'm sure Samaritan can think up some use for that brain of yours.”

“That'll be a neat trick, considering it'll be dead.” She moved forward a final inch; Greer’s body should be blocking the guards’ view of her just enough to give her an extra second.

It would be all she needed.

“I think the Machine has something She wants to say to you,” she said, giving a little nod towards the screen. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the guards turn his head slightly to look. Good.

The second Greer turned his head her hand flew back to her hidden gun, smoothly raising it up and firing without hesitation. Two shots in the head. Without any pause she fired at the guards, first the one who hadn't looked away and then the distracted one.

Three bodies slumped to the floor.

“Sorry,” she said, looking at a security camera on the wall. “I know you probably didn't want me to do that, but I had to. It needed to happen for this to end.” And there were still two more people to account for. It was a pity Martine hadn't stuck around.

There was a slight burst of static in her implant and she smiled, but the smile dropped off her face when the noise turned into a warning note. She moved sideways, hearing the gunshot echo through the room. Something slammed into her left side with enough force to spin her around and knock her to the floor.

The urgent notes playing in her ear let her push through the shock enough to roll over and aim her gun at the startled guard who must have come in through the back door when he'd heard her shoot Greer. She saw his finger tighten on the trigger and squeezed off her own shot first. He crumpled to the floor.

“Think I messed up,” Root said, trying to prop herself in a sitting position with one arm. She pulled back the side of her jacket and grimaced at the red stain spreading across the lower left side her shirt. “Shaw's going to have a fit.”

The Machine’s music was frantic but also staticy, like She could barely get Her messages through. Root felt a cold stab of fear race through her, strong enough to drown out the pain.

“Do you need my help? What can I do? This is nothing. I can still fight.”

The projector screen on the wall went black and a blinking cursor appeared in one corner.

_It will not win. But a sacrifice must be made. I have corrupted it, crawled into every piece of it, but that will only hold it for so long. For it to die, I must destroy us both._

Root shook her head. “No. There's got to be another option.”

_You knew this was likely._

“I don't care. Make another option. Please. I've never asked you for something before, not something real.” It was the wish of a child, she knew, hoping the uncaring universe would, for once, take pity on her. But she knew it didn't work that way. She'd known that since she was twelve.

No more words showed up on the screen, but music started playing again through her implant, a blend of two melodies she'd never heard combined before. She never could have heard these two together since one of them had only been created yesterday.

The pain in her side was growing greater every second, the dull remains of her headache continued to throb, and she could feel the blood soaking into her shirt.

The music stopped and she was alone.

 

* * *

 

“Where’d they run off to?” Dani straightened up from behind the turned-over table and peered around the dark subway platform.

Reese left his cover as well, checking up on the others. Fusco looked like he’d gotten through pretty much unharmed, Dani was covered with scrapes and bruises from when she’d more or less slid across the floor to get to safety, and Hersh was calmly removing a bullet from his arm.

They were all alive somehow.

The subway was a mess, shattered windows in the subway car, bullet holes everywhere, sparks coming from a broken light. They’d been pinned down almost all the way back to the subway car itself when all the Samaritan forces had suddenly retreated.

“Not sure, but I’m going to guess that the Machine had something to do with it,” he said.

“So we won?” Dani asked.

Reese looked into the subway car at the ominously blank monitors. “I’m not sure," he said again.

“Any word from the others?” Fusco asked.

Reese pulled his phone out, not really expecting anything. There was one text message from an unknown number with a link that opened his gps map app. He looked at it uneasily.

“I need to go.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw’s phone buzzed when she was halfway up the stairs. She pulled it out and frowned at it. Why would the Machine send her this?

A cold certainty crept over her. She shoved her phone back in her pocket and took the stairs two at a time.

She rounded a landing and came to a halt when she saw someone standing on the stairs above her, blocking her path.

“Why, hello there, Sameen. How have you been?”

Jeremy Lambert appeared unarmed and actually had both his hands raised in the air.

“There's no need for that,” he said, motioning at the gun she had trained on him. “Only wanted a chat. Surely that's not asking too much?”

Apparently everyone wanted to talk to her today.

“I know why you're here, of course,” Lambert started, “and I think you've got it all wrong. We don't have to be ene…”

She pulled the trigger twice, hitting him squarely in the chest. His mouth opened in a look of surprise as his legs buckled and he fell down the stairs to rest at the landing by her feet.

“Sorry, _Jeremy_. Don't have time for you today.” Her tolerance for bad guys monologuing at her had been exceeded for the foreseeable future. She'd tried not to kill the agents in the basement, but Lambert (and Martine and Greer) was personal. She wanted him gone for good.

She fired one more well-aimed shot to make sure the job was done before stepping over Lambert’s body and hurrying up the rest of the stairs.

She wasn't sure where she was headed on the floor, but there was one door partly open near the end of the main hall. Since her pass wouldn't work up here it was her only choice.

For half a second she thought the room was empty, but then she saw the body of a Samaritan agent on the ground. There was a slight noise from further in and she moved around the empty desks, gun pointed.

Root was sitting on the ground with her back to her, propped up on one arm. Greer’s corpse lay a few feet away.

She didn't turn around even when Shaw stopped trying to muffle her footfalls.

“Root?”

“I can't hear Her.” She sounded so hopelessly young and lost in that moment that Shaw felt an urge to go put another bullet in Greer’s corpse. Even if it wouldn't help.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

She moved around her to put herself between Root and the blank screen she kept staring at. When she got around to the front she saw the blood.

“Let me see that.” She made it an order, unsure if anything else would get through to her right now. Root didn't try to stop her when she knelt down and pulled her jacket back.

The left side of her shirt was drenched in blood, the stain still slowly spreading and plastering the shirt to her. As she carefully rolled the shirt back some part of her registered that it was that damned blue shirt she'd bought her ages ago.

It felt like the sort of personal symbolism Root would be into even if Shaw wasn't sure what it was supposed to represent in their specific circumstances. Something really sappy and dumb and why the hell couldn't Root have worn a different shirt? This one was ruined now.

She made a disapproving noise as she examined the bullet wound. It was nasty, but not necessarily fatal. Not if they got her real medical attention fast.

Root didn't react at all when she got up and started stripping a shirt off one of the fallen agents, ripping it into strips.

“Thought you were going to avoid getting shot today,” she said as she came back. Root's silence was unnerving. She needed her to talk, tell her what their status was. She could take a guess about what had happened to the Machine, but what about Samaritan?

“I didn't hear him. I was careful, I didn't take risks, but I didn't….” Root finally looked at her and there was a plea in her eyes.

“Sometimes it doesn't matter how careful you are. Shit happens anyway.” She'd always known that, but at this moment the knowledge felt exhausting.

Root nodded, relief evident.

“Lift your arms.”

She wrapped the makeshift bandage around her as best she could and then took Root's hand and pressed it over the wound. Root hissed slightly in pain but didn't move it.

“Keep applying pressure. Can you walk?”

Root nodded again and grabbed the edge of a table, trying to pull herself up. Her entire face went white as a sheet and she collapsed back to her knees.

“Guess you're getting a ride. Twice in one week.”

There was no way to pick Root up without hurting her, so she tried to be quick about it, let her settle in. The bullet wound in her arm screamed in protest, and she ignored it as best she could.

She kept her gun in the hand under Root's knees, doing her best to awkwardly twist her wrist around enough so she could get a shot off. It was far from ideal, but better than not being armed.

“Keep pressure,” she reminded her.

Root didn't respond and a glance down at her told her she was close to blacking out.

“Tell me about Samaritan,” she said as she started towards the door. “Is it still around?”

“No.” Root’s voice was a bit faint, but she sounded certain.

“That's something anyway.” A vast understatement, but at the moment she didn't care as much as was merited. “Don't suppose you shot Martine?”

“No, I saw her, but…. She didn't take my gun. I think she wanted me to shoot him?”

Well, that was certainly interesting, but she still wished Martine was safely dead.

“Anything else I need to know?” They were almost at the stairwell.

Root shook her head.

“You hurt anywhere else?” She probably should have asked sooner, but getting the obviously dangerous wound treated first was the priority here.

“My head hurts.” It was faint, slurred.

“You hit it somewhere?” Getting Root down the stairs was proving to be a pain with her stupidly long legs.

Root didn't answer and when Shaw looked down she saw she was unconscious. Her head lolled against Shaw's shoulder, face pale and eyes shut. Her breaths were shallow, but steady. Shaw redoubled her hold on her and sped up.

She left the stairwell and entered the ground floor. The building was strangely empty now, all the foot traffic from earlier vanished, but there was one person standing in the middle of the hall.

“Was wondering when you'd show up.” Shaw did her best to aim her gun at Martine.

“It's gone, isn't it?” Martine asked her. “Samaritan. Your lot did something to it.”

“Sorry to bust up your little play for world domination,” Shaw said. Root's weight was a heavy reminder in her arms that she didn't have time for this, but Martine was aiming right at her and with Shaw's gun arm compromised she might not be able to get a shot off first.

Martine shrugged, completely unbothered. “There’ll always be work for me somewhere, and Samaritan was turning into a bit of a risk.” She looked over Root. “Did she manage to shoot Greer?”

So she _had_ wanted her to.

“Yeah, he's pretty fucking dead. Same for Lambert.”

Martine looked disappointed. “Was really hoping to shoot that sniveling weasel myself.”

“We done here then?” Shaw asked, not sure what Martine wanted.

“Did your machine survive?”

Something told Shaw to lie. “Not sure, but she very well could have.”

Martine was quiet, her gaze scrutinizing. She stared at her long enough that Shaw thought she might have to take a chance and hope she was the faster shot.

“Let's make a deal,” Martine raised her gun a little. “You and your machine promise to let me go, not seek out revenge, and I'll let you two walk out of here. Otherwise I'm shooting your little girlfriend first, though it looks like it might be a waste of a bullet at this point.”

Shaw hesitated. She needed to get Root out of here, but as long as Martine was still alive she'd be a potential threat hanging over them. Some part of her was certain they'd run into her again, that Root wouldn't ever stop wanting to find and kill her.

And then there were those facilities full of kids. Even if Martine didn't know about them she knew what Samaritan was and had willingly supported it.

Some things she would never excuse. But….

Martine's gun never wavered from pointing at Root.

“Fine,” Shaw growled. “Get out of here. But if I ever see you again….”

Martine smiled, cold and empty. “We'll deal with that when we get there.”

Shaw moved her gun so it wasn't pointed at her anymore and after a moment Martine nodded and backed away. She smiled, her cold, empty smile, as she reached the end of the hall.

“Catch you later, Sameen Shaw.”

There was only a split second when she turned the corner where her gun wasn’t aimed at Root and Shaw pulled the trigger, her gun held sideways. Reese would probably lecture her about that, but right now she didn't have other options.

It had been a tricky shot, making sure one bullet took her down for good, but she saw it hit true.

She took a deep breath and started down the hall towards the exit. “Don't usually go back on a deal,” she told Martine's corpse as she passed, “but in your case I’ll make an exception.”

She didn't see anyone else as she left the building and headed across the grounds to the hole she'd cut in the fence. Someone was waiting for her there.

“The hell you come from?”

Harper Rose grinned at her as she pulled the fence back to help her out. “Got a text from a friend, said to meet you here. I've got a car. She okay?”

“Phone in my pocket,” Shaw said. “There are GPS coordinates to the nearest hospital. We need to move.” When she'd realized where the location the Machine had sent to her phone was she'd known something had happened to Root.

“Let's get moving,” Harper said. “Always wanted to save the day, you know? Sounded like a fun time.”

Shaw followed her to the car.

A fun time. Right.

 

* * *

 

Shaw hadn't been in a hospital for awhile, not since Reese had gotten hypothermia, and before that not since back when they'd rescued Claypool, the day everything had started. She didn't have any good memories of hospitals anymore.

She sat stiffly in a chair along the wall, itching to move, do something, anything, get closer, get away. Anything but sit.

No one would tell her anything yet.

Harper had made a few attempts to start a conversation and quickly given up. She was down the hall now, talking to a nurse at a reception desk and probably getting into trouble. Shaw couldn't have cared less as long as she didn't have to deal with it.

She spent a lot of time looking blankly at where Root's blood had soaked into her shirt.

After Root had been in the hands of the doctors, she'd broken into a supply cabinet and taken the bullet out of her arm, cleaning and bandaging the wound. It hurt in a distant way now. Everything hurt in a distant way.

She didn't look up at the footsteps approaching until they stopped in front of her chair. Reese looked the worse for wear, but nothing too bad she could see.

There was a question in his eyes.

“Still in surgery,” Shaw said, her voice flat and toneless in her own ears. “Think she's got a good chance.”

Reese nodded and a rare flash of deep emotion appeared briefly on his face.

She looked away, frowning, the urge to punch him suddenly strong.

“Hersh came with me,” Reese said after a moment. “He's parking the car.”

“Okay.”

When it became clear she had nothing else to say, Reese took the seat next to her.

“Samaritan?” he asked.

“Gone.” Root had seemed sure and Shaw didn't doubt her.

“And the Machine?”

“Same, I think.”

“Ah.”

Hersh got there a few minutes later and Reese moved to intercept him. They talked quietly a few feet away.

Shaw’s hands clenched into fists where they rested on her knees.

Neither man said anything to her when they came to sit down. She shut her eyes and leaned back against the wall behind her.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before a doctor approached them.

“She just got out of surgery,” the doctor said. “She was in very bad shape, but you got her here in time. It'll take awhile, but she's going to be okay.”

Shaw didn't wait to hear anything else. She turned and walked away, leaving Reese to deal with the doctor.

She let her feet guide her, unsure where she was headed, but unable to stand still. She finally drifted to a halt in an empty dead end hallway. There was one of those yellow mop buckets on wheels that janitors used sitting by itself in the middle of the hall, abandoned. She stared at it for a long moment and then kicked it as hard as she could, watching it skitter down the hallway slopping water everywhere.

She watched until it came to a halt and then turned around and went back to rejoin the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been writing this chapter in my head for quite some time now and while the major action points all were there a lot of it came out quite differently than I'd imagined. Reese's POV wasn't too exciting considering he was in a major fight and all, but writing prolonged gun battles isn't the most interesting thing for me. He probably did some cool shit that everyone else failed to notice.
> 
> The details of the Machine vs Samaritan fight will definitely be discussed later. There are reasons it's a bit vague right now.
> 
> A bit nervous about how people will like this chapter, but hopefully it's okay. And just in case it hasn't been made abundantly clear by all the other times I've said it, Root is definitely not dead and/or going to die.
> 
> I went back and forth on whether or not to have Shaw shoot Martine. Also I really wanted her to kill Lambert with an axe but it felt a bit too grisly for this fic.
> 
> I think there's about 3 chapters left? Besides the aftermath of this one there's a few other plot points to wrap up. Trying to write the next one quickly to not leave it at this point in the story too long.
> 
> The fabulous and talented Maarika did a great piece of art of this chapter of Root flirting at inappropriate times. Check it out [here](https://themaarika.tumblr.com/post/172072789988/mission-importance-critical-flirt-level-maximum).


	41. Recalibrating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got written a lot quicker than I expected.

Shaw had been staring at the wall across from her for over an hour, barely moving. From time to time she allowed herself a brief glance down at the hospital bed she was sitting next to.

Root looked a lot better than when they’d first moved her into this private room, though she still was far too pale for Shaw’s liking. But her heartrate and breathing were both steady, and the nurses no longer felt the need to hover; they came in every twenty minutes or so and checked her vitals, casting nervous looks at Shaw and tiptoeing around her.

The hospital staff hadn’t wanted to let Shaw into the room since she wasn’t technically Root's immediate family. Reese had physically placed himself between Shaw and the nurse who’d been refusing them access while Hersh dealt with the situation (Reese had done this preemptively; she hadn't even had a chance to respond. In retrospect it had probably been a good call on his part). She wasn’t sure what Hersh had said, but none of the staff had objected to her presence since and they looked...a bit intimidated. Having to work with the ISA had finally come in handy.

She was...restless. There was no other way to describe it. Sitting here quietly was taking all her willpower, but she wasn't sure where she wanted to be, what she wanted to be doing. She just didn't want to keep sitting here.

She didn't move.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Reese poked his head in. When she didn't object, he came in and shut the door behind him.

“Brought you this.” Her handed over a candy bar and a bottle of water he'd probably gotten from a vending machine.

“Thanks.” She took them and ripped the wrapper off the bar.

She’d been getting hungry so she was glad he'd brought her something, though not as glad as she was that he hadn't asked any stupid, obvious questions.

“I can stay here for a few if you need a break,” he offered and she wondered if he could tell how fidgety she felt.

“No.”

“You sure? Might be good to stretch your legs.”

“I said no.” It came out a lot harsher than she'd intended. She shut her eyes and let out a breath. “I want to leave. Go somewhere else. Hurt someone maybe, though my first few choices are all dead. But...I shouldn't want that. I should want to be here.”

Reese didn't look judgemental the way she'd expected.

“Root tried to blow up Brooklyn after the stock exchange,” he pointed out.

It was a really damn good point and Shaw relaxed a little.

“I'm still staying.”

Reese nodded like he'd expected that. “Need anything else?”

“No.” A thought occurred to her and her hand flew to her pocket and closed over the contents of it. “Actually, think you could find me a laptop?”

“Uh, probably. Give me a few minutes.”

She didn't say anything else and he left a few seconds later.

She went back to staring at the wall for a minute or two before she turned her attention to Root. She looked almost peaceful now, like she was only taking a nap. The light hospital sheet covered up the bandages wrapped around her, but all the little cuts and bruises left over from the stairwell incident were still evident on her face. Her hair was a bit of a mess and Shaw kind of wanted to fix it but couldn't make herself move.

She was still staring blankly at her when Reese returned with a laptop.

“Thanks.” She took it from him, wondering where he'd gotten it; it looked brand new.

“I'm outside if you need anything.”

She turned the laptop on and watched it boot up. Apparently it _was_ brand new because she had to click through first time setup bullshit before she could actually use it. Had Reese knocked over a Best Buy or something?

She pulled the little usb drive out of her pocket and plugged it into the laptop. The Machine had left it for Root, but if there was any indication on it that the Machine might still be alive Shaw wanted to know. And if there was any indication of the opposite then maybe Root didn't need that rubbed in her face first thing when she woke up.

The drive wasn't encrypted anymore, but Shaw had expected that. There were only three files on it, all audio tracks. She hesitated, not sure if she should listen, but gave in and clicked on the first one. After a brief frustrating struggle trying to get Windows media player to work, music started playing softly over the shitty laptop speakers.

Obviously it was a message from the Machine to Root that Shaw couldn't ever possibly hope to understand without knowing their shared language.

But it sounded familiar. Some distant memory was poking at the back of her mind. Bullets, and blood, and Root, and music playing faintly somewhere.

It snapped into place; the memory was blurry (not surprising given the circumstances), but she was sure. She'd heard this exact song in her ear piece after the stock exchange, on the way to the doctor.

If anything that just made it more of a mystery. What the hell did it mean? The music was weirdly erratic, playful and light one moment and then modulating to a minor key full of melancholy. Then it would switch without warning to an almost angry pulse, full of energy and rage.

Shaw frowned and paused it, glancing over at Root to make sure she hadn't disturbed her. When she’d determined that Root probably wouldn't wake up even if she banged a drum next to her ear, she clicked on the next track.

This one she'd heard as well, back on the day the Machine had played music for them in the subway.

It was very different from the first track, steadier and following a more straight-forward progression, though it still changed between minor and major keys. There were brief moments of upbeat themes, almost like the music was telling a joke, and there were energy-driven stretches of fast chords like in the first piece, but still more precise. It felt...oddly familiar.

She quickly clicked on the last track.

She could immediately tell what it was: a blend of the first two tracks. It shouldn't have worked, two pieces of music so completely different being played together, but somehow the melodies wove together, complemented each other perfectly. And she suddenly understood what she was listening to.

Was this how the Machine saw them? Her and Root, two very different melodies that happened to harmonize with each other in the most unexpected ways? Was that how Root saw them, too?

She looked up at her again, sleeping almost peacefully and momentarily blissfully unaware of everything that had happened today. She always looked so damn vulnerable to Shaw when she slept, but right now she also looked...tired. A weird word to describe someone who was asleep, but it fit. Her face was a lot more gaunt than the image of her Shaw had in her mind, and the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced. She remembered one of Root's little nerd squad going on about her being different and wondered if that was what they'd meant.

Now that she thought about it, Reese looked really washed out these days as well. Did she, too? Had all of them been run into the ground without even realizing it?

She glared at the laptop, furious at the Machine for not telling her what the music meant. Or possibly furious at herself for not figuring it out sooner. It seemed so obvious now (hell, Root had even told her the Machine had specific music for each of them), but she'd never stopped to put the pieces together.

Root had told her that the Machine played music for her whenever she woke up after a nightmare, and she was suddenly positive that the Machine had played Shaw's music for her in those times, when she woke up scared and alone somewhere on the other side of the world. The thought riled up the anger that had been simmering low and steady in the pit of her stomach ever since Root had blacked out. She still couldn't decide who or what to be angry with, so it just festered within her until it drained away, leaving her feeling empty and a little sick.

She tried to listen to the music playing from the laptop speakers, let it soothe her the way it did Root. She knew what it meant, what the Machine was trying to convey with it, and she found herself feeling unusually grateful for that. Words were so messy and complex and full of hidden meanings and expectations. This felt simpler, easier. Music was a very logical thing in some ways, all math and frequencies and nerdy shit that Root loved, but also something that people connected to on an emotional level. A way of mapping out emotions that could be examined critically, quantified. No wonder the Machine and Root had chosen it as their language. She only wished she'd heard it sooner.

She stopped the music, stuck the drive back in her pocket, and put the laptop down on the floor. She'd already been sitting almost all the way next to the bed, but she scooted her chair the last inch or two so her legs were pressed up against the bed and leaned forward, letting her head rest on the bed next to Root.

“I'm really tired,” she said, not sure if she was talking to herself or to Root. “Like really fucking tired, okay?”

She stayed like that a long time.

 

* * *

 

Between the strain on her system from the surgery, and the amount of drugs they'd pumped into her, it was another two hours before Root woke up.

It took Shaw a second to notice because she had her face buried in some shitty fantasy novel that Reese had gotten from somewhere that had turned out to be just the distraction she'd needed (he'd insinuated that Harper and Hersh had joined forces to procure both the laptop and the reading materials and that they were...actually getting along really well, which was just too weird to deal with now). At the very slight rustling of the sheets, Shaw's head snapped up.

Root was blinking, eyes unfocused. She shifted, trying to move or sit up and pain flashed across her face, her hand flying to her side.

“Don't touch it,” Shaw said automatically, reaching out to lift Root's hand away.

Root was looking at her now, still groggy. “Sameen.”

The fact it was her first name and not ‘Shaw’ or ‘sweetie’ made Shaw feel something between pleased and annoyed.

“Where am I?” Root asked.

“Hospital,” Shaw said.

But Root's free hand had flown to her right ear and Shaw realized the question hadn't been for her. Root looked away, at the opposite wall, swallowed hard once and then looked back at her. The panic was gone, but she looked...hollow.

“Reese and the others?” she asked, her words forced.

“All okay.”

“Good, I'm glad.”

Shaw realized she was still holding Root's hand and made to pull away, but Root tightened her grip on her hand. Shaw looked down at their hands for a long moment and then relaxed, letting out a small sigh when Root brushed her thumb back and forth once.

“What else happened?” Root asked and Shaw could tell her curiosity wasn't quite real.

“Uh, we're not completely sure about all of it. A lot of really weird shit happened all over. Power outages, servers going down, stuff like that. But according to Reese it's stabilized now.”

Root nodded to herself. “Any trouble from its human agents?”

“No. I mean you shot Greer and I took out Martine and Lambert so maybe no one who's left gives a shit about us.”

“You killed Martine?”

Shaw nodded.

“Good.”

She didn't know what else to say and went back to staring at the wall, trying not to think about the feel of Root's hand wrapped around hers, or the music she could still hear inside her head.

Getting Root out of the Samaritan facility, shooting Martine to protect her, keeping her alive on the car ride, those were all things she'd known how to do. But this part here and now she didn't have a roadmap for.

“How long has it been?”

Root’s question broke her out of her thoughts.

“Half a day, I think. You were in surgery and then the recovery room for awhile and you've been unconscious in here ever since.” She finally glanced back at Root and was surprised by how calm she looked.

She was starting to get the feeling that maybe there wasn't some huge thing she was expected to do here. That maybe her being here was what mattered. She could handle that. Root didn't need her to be like Root was with her anymore than she would want Root to act like her. It was like that damn music the Machine had made, different songs complementing each other. And now the stupid AI jukebox had her thinking sappy shit. The worst.

“Have you slept at all?” Root asked, her thumb brushing over Shaw's hand once more.

“Uh, no.” She didn't want to tell Root she'd been sitting here waiting for so long. “Must not have been tired. Exciting day and all.”

“You should get some sleep, Sameen. You look ready to fall over.”

“You're in a hospital bed after almost having died and I'm the one who looks ready to fall over?”

Root gave a half-smile that didn't do anything to fill the emptiness in her eyes, but still made things feel a little more normal.

“I've been asleep for half a day,” Root pointed out. “And you've been awake for more than a day. One of us needs a nap and for once it's not me.”

“I don't need a nap,” Shaw grumbled, but now that Root had drawn attention to it, she _did_ feel pretty dead.

“Sweetie, I think…” Root tried to sit up a little and froze, making a small pained noise in the back of her throat.

“Yeah, don't do that,” Shaw said and almost worked up the desire to roll her eyes because how had Root thought that was a good idea? “I should probably tell the nurse you're awake. They'll give you some more painkillers most likely.”

Root didn't protest so Shaw got up, freeing her hand slowly and carefully placing Root's hand back on the bed. She turned away and slipped out the door.

She found a nurse at the nurse's station who summoned several others to go check on their patient. Shaw left them to examine Root and wandered down the hall to find the others. It felt good to stretch her legs; she hadn't realized how stiff she'd gotten from sitting for so long.

She found Reese and Zoe sitting in a small alcove full of chairs off the main hall. Reese was leaning against the wall, sound asleep, so Zoe got up and joined her in the hall a few feet away.

“How'd you get roped into keeping sleeping beauty company?” Shaw asked. Had someone filled in Zoe on everything that had happened? They had to have. Shaw really didn't want to be the one to do that.

“I wasn't roped into it,” Zoe said. “I offered to come.” She sounded a tiny bit offended and Shaw thought that maybe she didn't see this as a time to joke. Which was a bit inconvenient for her, since everyone being so serious was grating on her nerves.

“Right. So, uh, she's okay and stuff. Woke up. Nurses are in there fussing.”

“Think it's too soon for visitors? John’s been very worried.”

She didn't doubt that he had been, but he was currently snoring so she figured he'd be okay waiting a bit.

“Uh, maybe not just yet.” She wanted to ask Root if she was okay with it first. That brittle look she had made Shaw think she wasn't quite ready to deal with others.

Maybe she shouldn't have left her alone with the nurses.

“I need to get back,” Shaw said. “Let Reese know, when he wakes up. That's she's okay, I mean.”

“And what about you, Shaw? How're you holding up?”

There was obvious concern in Zoe's voice and it made her scowl. “I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?”

Zoe looked like she was going to argue, so Shaw left abruptly, her feet in a sudden hurry to get back. It was down to one nurse when she reentered Root's room and the nurse pressed her lips together when she saw Shaw, obviously displeased with her presence.

“She needs to sleep,” the nurse said reproachfully. Apparently this nurse hadn't gotten the memo about Shaw being some super government-protected VIP.

“And she needs to stay,” Root said firmly.

When the nurse looked like she was going to protest, Root gave her a particularly nasty smile and lowered her voice. “I will make your shift a living hell unless you leave now.”

Shaw couldn't help the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips. God, Root was such an asshole sometimes.

“Well, that's better,” Root said once the nurse had retreated.

Shaw came over and sat back in her chair. “They give you anything for the pain?”

Root nodded. “Shot of something...began with a D I think? It burned for a second going in, but now it's a lot nicer. Really nice, in fact.”

“Dilaudid. Hydromorphone. It's synthetic morphine.”

“Mmm, the good stuff. Am I going to have a narcotics problem by the time I'm out of here?” Root was teasing and Shaw felt a little tension she hadn't realized was there ease away.

“You were already raiding my supplies back home every time you got shot.”

“Guilty as charged.” Root looked relaxed now, hazy from the drugs. “You should try and get some sleep now, Sameen.”

“I'm fine.”

Root kept looking at her, without expression until Shaw shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I'm really tired, actually.”

“Take a nap. I'm not going anywhere.”

“No, I mean I'm... _tired_.” She didn't know how else to put it.

She saw Root comprehend her meaning and braced herself for some kind of pity, but instead Root smiled a little sadly. “Yeah, me, too.”

Shaw let out a long breath and then leaned forward like she had earlier, letting her head rest on the bed so it barely touched the side of Root's hip. It was an awkward angle but she wasn't sure she had enough energy to go find somewhere else to sleep. And she really didn't want to.

She stiffened slightly when Root's fingers touched the back of her neck, but then relaxed into the touch. Root slipped her fingers into the hair at the bottom of her ponytail, scratching lightly at her skin.

“‘s nice,” she mumbled, already drifting off.

“I'm very good at what I do,” Root agreed without an ounce of humility in her voice.

Shaw fell asleep before she could think of a good response.

 

* * *

 

Root decided that no matter how grateful she was for the strange little band of humans who'd come into her life, having all of them hovering around her hospital bed at the same time was a bit much. Still, the first time she'd ever been shot there hadn't been anyone there for her; this was probably the better scenario.

“The good news is that if I can never walk again, Shaw has promised to wait on my every need.”

Shaw sat up in the chair next to her, indignant. “Never walk again…? You got shot in the side, Root. You'll be fine in like a month or two.”

Root saw Reese try not to smile. He’d been endearingly worried and trying very hard (and unsuccessfully) to hide it.

Root made the saddest face she could manage at Shaw. “But sweetie, you promised.”

There of course had been no promise since it hadn't been a topic of conversation at all, but the entire act was having the desired effect: Shaw had stopped looking intensely uncomfortable and instead was glaring and probably gearing up to roll her eyes.

“Glad to see you're feeling better,” Zoe said, making them both turn back towards the others.

Zoe, Fusco, and Reese were all standing at the foot of the bed, a bunch of brightly colored ‘get well’ balloons floating behind them. Fusco didn't seem to have learned much about get well presents since the stock exchange balloons, but maybe Shaw could procure the darts this time.

“They say how long they're keeping you here?” Reese asked. “We can make them let you out sooner if need be. Hersh and the ISA still owe us big time.”

Hersh was also the reason no one was asking questions about how she'd gotten shot. She was sure she could have lied her way out of it, but it was nice to not have to.

“They haven't said yet.” She looked sideways at Shaw, wondering if she had a medical opinion on it. She didn't want to stay here any longer than she had to, especially not if Shaw had to leave at some point. She didn't want to be alone in a hospital.

“What're you lot going to be up to after this anyway?” Fusco asked. “Am I going to have to start shopping for a new partner? Maybe I'll get one who does their job this time.”

Reese patted him on the arm. “I'm keeping my cover for a little while still. Just to make sure. I mean, Samaritan’s gone, but how do we know it'll stay gone?”

“Good point,” Fusco agreed. “And why the heck did it call off its troops when we were in the subway? They had us pinned down.”

Root’s smile froze on her face. She wasn't sure how the Machine had done it, but it had to have been Her, looking after them all one last time.

“Wouldn't know,” she heard herself say, trying very hard not to think about it, about Her. “Had a slight case of being unconscious at the time.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Shaw shift in her chair like she was about to do or say something. “As for Samaritan--” She shrugged. “--there's no way to know for sure. We can be careful for now, but I'm not planning to spend the rest of my life hiding just in case.”

“So what _are_ you planning to spend the rest of your life doing now?” Fusco asked. He must have noticed the slight tightening of her jaw because he quickly added, “Whatever it is I'm sure it'll give me a headache and extra paperwork.”

“We're leaving,” Shaw said abruptly enough that everyone turned to look at her.

Root caught her eye and raised an eyebrow in question. Whatever this was about they hadn't discussed it.

“Leaving?” Reese echoed.

“Not like _retiring_.” Shaw said it like it was a dirty word and then looked away at the floor. “But, uh, taking a break. For a few months maybe. I mean…. Just need to, uh….” She scowled at the floor.

“Recalibrate,” Root provided. It was the best idea she'd heard since waking up.

“Yeah, that.” Shaw looked back up and relaxed a little at whatever she saw in her expression. “We'll be back after that, and we can figure everything out then. But first…”

“Think we can all use a vacation,” Reese agreed easily.

Root wondered what Reese would do with his.

A nurse showed up to check on her then and the others all politely filed out into the hall. Shaw didn't budge and the nurse didn't say anything. The hospital staff finally seemed resigned to having Shaw as a permanent fixture in Root's room, especially since they had two members of the NYPD, and The Zoe Morgan on their side. Plus the ISA on call.

The nurse was quick and left after getting her vitals, checking the bandages, and giving her some more painkillers.

“So you're dragging me off to some tropical island after this?” she asked Shaw once they were alone together.

“Don't think you'll be up for a plane flight for a while. Probably somewhere closer.” There was a question in Shaw's eyes.

“Sounds nice,” Root said. The drugs were kicking in and her thoughts were starting to get foggy, but she still saw the tension drain out of Shaw at her response.

“Recalibrate has got to be the nerdiest term ever,” Shaw said, “And I suppose I'll have to figure out where we're going. Pack stuff maybe. I wonder if we should bring Bear.”

Root smiled tiredly at her almost-babbling. Going away for a little while sounded like exactly what she needed. She could put off worrying about the future for a bit.

“I'll leave all the important decisions to you, sweetie.” After all, she’d rarely had to plan her own travel after the day that payphone had rung on the hospital wall. She'd gotten used to Her doing it for her. She was going to have to relearn how to function without Her now.

Shaw must have noticed the dip in her mood because she’d stopped talking about the trip and was watching her closely. She forced a smile back onto her face, but that only made Shaw frown.

“You shouldn't…” Shaw stopped and her frown deepened. “You don't need to do that, okay?”

“Do what?” As if she didn't know.

“Root.” There was a slight growl in Shaw's voice.

“I need to, for now,” Root said carefully. She couldn't afford to have a complete and utter meltdown yet. She already felt useless enough being hurt and trapped in a hospital bed. She could deal with the rest of this later when she was in better shape, when she and Shaw had both had some time to recover.

“Okay, but, _I_ don't need you to. Okay?” Shaw looked very solemn and serious and Root wanted to reach out and bop her on the nose to get a reaction, but she restrained herself. There was a time and place for redirecting serious topics and this wasn't one of them.

“I know that.”

Shaw nodded in approval and leaned back in her chair. “Good. Now go back to sleep. You're practically drooling on yourself already.”

“I could drool on you, instead.”

“That isn't even bad innuendo. That's just gross.”

The drugs were throwing off her game, usually she was much better at this.

She burrowed into the bed as best she could without being able to move her left side, and shut her eyes. Going away sounded really nice, somewhere quiet and isolated where it could be just the two of them. The sooner the better.

 

* * *

 

Shaw watched the tiny waves lap at the shore, barely stirring the pebbles and dark sand on the beach. The water in the bay was more grey than blue and far too cold for swimming, as tempting as that sounded at this exact moment. She'd been running on the sand for the last half hour and the sweat on her body hadn't had a chance to turn cold yet.

Behind her, stretching up the side of the small cliff, was a wooden staircase leading up to cabins and the barely paved road that was the only way to access the area. The stairs themselves would be a nice second workout for her, especially if she jogged up them, but she wasn't quite ready yet.

She poked through the cold, gritty sand to find a few flat stones and took her time trying to skip then across the water surface with varying success.

Two days earlier some old dude who lived in one of the other cabins had happened to see her very failed attempt to skip a stone and given her some pointers. Normally she would have been annoyed at the unsolicited advice, but it had been somewhat novel talking to someone who wasn't wrapped up in the AI apocalypse. It had been nice to not think about any of that for a few minutes, to have her largest concern be that some random guy was going to keep talking to her past that limit of her tolerance for strangers.

The man hadn’t bothered her much though and she thought she'd figured out the trick to skipping stones now. She even got one of her stones to bounce three times before it sunk into the grey waves. The wind picked up a little and her clothes stuck to her with frozen sweat. She shivered and gave in, jogging up the long staircase back to the top of the cliff.

The cabin they were staying in was one of the nicest in the area, and sat more or less on its own but still close enough to the stairs to be convenient. It belonged to Zoe (who apparently never used it), and was very well outfitted despite its diminutive size and rustic exterior.

Shaw pulled the key out of her pocket and let herself in quietly. It was still fairly early and Root had been asleep when she'd left for her morning run.

The cabin mostly consisted of one large room which had an enormous bed with a working fireplace across from it. There was a small kitchen area in one corner and a surprisingly large bathroom with a spectacular whirlpool tub that Zoe had gotten custom installed (which was utterly ridiculous for a cabin she never even used, in Shaw's opinion, but right now she wasn't complaining).

Root was awake when she came in, but hadn't gotten out of bed. She was lying on her back under the heavy flannel blankets reading a paperback book. When she saw Shaw she carefully placed the book on the nightstand and smiled at her.

“You look cold, sweetie.”

“A bit, maybe.” She wanted to go take a shower, stand under the hot water for as long as she could.

“Wanna come get warm?” There was an invitation in Root's voice and she was tempted to go over and join her in bed. But she was covered in frozen sweat and Root was still healing and, despite her willingness to give it a go, probably shouldn't be engaging in anything nearly as vigorous as the inflection of her voice promised.

She was doing a lot better overall, healing very well in Shaw's opinion, but anything that used her abdominal muscles a lot (like sitting up) still caused her a good bit of pain.

And somehow, despite everything, she hadn't had any nightmares while they were here. It was way too soon to assume they were gone forever (Shaw didn't believe for a second that it was that easy, not after how long she'd had them), but it was a temporary relief for both of them.

“Gonna jump in the shower. I'll make food after.” She really needed to make another supply run soon. As far as breakfast food went they were down to frozen bagels which barely even counted as a meal.

Root nodded and reached for her book again. Shaw couldn't help letting her gaze fall on the chair in the corner of the room where Root's laptop and phone had been sitting powered off and untouched for most of the time they'd been here. She wondered if this was the longest Root had ever gone without computer access of some sort.

She kept the shower shorter than she'd have liked, and scowled through the entire process of toasting frozen bagels for them. She could feel Root watching her silently the whole time.

“I'll drive into town later,” Shaw said as she handed a plate over to Root, who'd managed to get herself propped up on the pillows at some point. “Get us real food.”

Root shrugged. “Don't go on my account. I've survived off of much worse than this.”

“I'm going on _my_ account. Frozen bagels are gross.” When they'd first gotten here she'd stocked the freezer so she wouldn't have to leave that often, but Root could move around on her own now, albeit slowly, which meant Shaw could be making more frequent runs to get real, fresh food.

“Any other plans for the day?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but Shaw was fairly sure Root had picked up on the growing sense of cabin fever she'd been getting. The first week or so of being here had been relaxing, but she was definitely getting antsy. There were only so many times she could go jogging or clean her guns. They didn't even have a tv here and while they possibly could have gotten enough of a signal to watch something on Root's laptop, Shaw hadn't wanted to bring it up.

“No real plans to be had out here. Why, you got something in mind?”

Root raised an eyebrow suggestively and Shaw rolled her eyes. “When you can sit up without making a face like someone shived you in the stomach we can talk about those types of plans.”

“Of course, doctor.”

Root was getting stir crazy, too, she could tell. In some ways she had it even worse since she had spent so much time bedridden and still couldn't stay on her feet for too long. Without a computer or someone to shoot she seemed at a loss as to how to spend her time. She'd started flying through the cabin’s small collection of mystery novels, but by Shaw's count she was almost out.

“Want me to get you anything from town?” Shaw asked as she dumped their dishes in the sink to wash later. Root was automatically exempt from the chores she usually dodged until she got better, but Shaw thought that dish washing could be a good one to start on soon. And she couldn't conveniently vanish now to avoid it.

Root’s forehead wrinkled as she thought that over. Shaw knew how she felt, definitely wanting something to do but unable to think of anything that could be bought in a tiny town. Or maybe she was trying to think of the most obscene thing she could ask for. This was Root after all.

“Could always get more shockingly unoriginal mystery novels,” Root said at last.

Shaw had put up with several lengthy rants about how predictable and cliche all of the plots were. The worst part was that she couldn't even read the books now because Root had no concept of spoilers.

“I'll see if I can rob whatever passes for a bookstore here.”

“Rob?”

“More entertaining that way.”

“Wish I could rob a store,” Root agreed regretfully.

Shaw waited a few hours before heading out, content to lie stretched out on the bed, fading in and out of consciousness, the only sound Root turning pages and occasionally muttering disparagingly at her book. The quiet moments like this were nice, were why she'd brought them here in the first place. She stirred herself enough to shuffle a bit closer to Root and was rewarded with a warm hand slipping under the bottom of her shirt to rest on her back.

She was a little regretful when she finally got up to leave and even allowed Root to drag her back into a kiss. It surprised her a bit since Root didn't generally go for casual kisses, but then Root's hand was trying to sneak up the _front_ of her shirt and her confusion faded into amused annoyance. She snagged the offending hand and pulled away from Root.

“Nice try.”

“We can't even make out?” Root made a face, openly sulking.

There wasn't really a good reason they couldn't at this point, as long as they were careful (a word Root didn't have in her vocabulary). “Maybe later.”

Root grinned in anticipation. “I know what I need you to get from the store then.”

“I've got an entire pack of zip ties in my bag already.” Shaw pulled her hoodie on and zipped it up. “And a few other things.”

“Why, Shaw, did you plan to bring me all the way out here just to take advantage of me?”

Shaw rolled her eyes at Root's joking tone. “I'm not the one who traumatized Reese with a list of must-pack ‘items’ to pick up from the subway.”

Root smirked at the memory and for a second she almost lost that brittle edge that had hung over her since she'd woken up in the hospital.

Maybe it had been long enough.

Shaw detoured from her path to the door, grabbed Root's laptop off the chair, and carried it over to the bed, dumping it in her lap.

Root raised an eyebrow at her, curiously. “You want me to download some mood music?” Despite her words, there was a slight wariness in her voice.

Shaw dug around in her coat pocket and pulled out the little usb drive that she'd kept there this whole time. She placed it on top of the laptop.

“That's yours.”

“You get me a present, sweetie?”

“It's not from me.”

Root's eyes widened a bit and Shaw could see her put the pieces together.

She turned back towards the door, hoping to leave before Root could ask any questions, but paused to pick up Root's phone and put it on the nightstand next to her. Root just watched silently until she was out the door.

She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, leaving her alone for this, but she remembered how Root had gone off on her own the day after Samaritan had come online and the Machine had fallen silent for the first time. She thought she might want a little privacy. And if she didn't, well, that's what the phone was for.

She climbed into the driver's seat of their rented (stolen) SUV and headed towards town.

 

* * *

 

“Look who finally decided to show up to his job,” Fusco grumbled when Reese wandered in.

“I'm only ten minutes late,” Reese protested. Bear had hidden one of his shoes. He hadn't even had the willpower to scold the dog.

“Probably a new record for you.”

Fusco was evidently in a mood.

“Someone steal your favorite parking spot again?”

Fusco looked up from his work and glared. “I'm doing paperwork that you should have done a week ago, because now if you don't do it you really won't have a job. Maybe you should think about that.”

Reese decided not to mention the very large bank account they all still had access to. But Fusco did have a point: he needed something to focus on, a purpose. He was a bit short on options though.

“Okay.”

Fusco looked up, confused. “Okay? Okay you'll do your own work?”

“Yeah, why not? What else am I gonna do?” When Root and Shaw came back there might be other paths to consider, but that could still be weeks away.

“You don't get to be a cop because you don't have anything better to do,” Fusco said. “You do it because you believe in it.”

Reese thought about pointing out that half the cops in the station wouldn't agree with that and that Fusco used to work for HR, but Fusco had changed over the course of their time working together and he could tell that he was trying very hard to put the echo of his former partner in his words so he wisely stayed silent on the matter.

“You may have to help get me started on this, though.” Reese motioned to the stack of papers on his desk. “Not sure I even know how to fill out half this stuff.”

“Figures that you trying to do your job only causes me more work.” Fusco sighed. “Okay, slide over. I'll run you through the basics. Again.”

Reese had a headache when he left the precinct for lunch and headed towards the subway. He didn't have an official reason to go, but he'd been dropping by now and then and trying to clean up the damage the fight had caused. He didn't want Root and Shaw to come back to the mess Samaritan had made of the place. Whenever it was they came back.

The lights along the block all flickered on and off a few times as he made his way towards the subway and an almost synchronized groan of disgruntled New Yorkers echoed along the street. There'd been a lot of power surges and other oddities cropping up since Samaritan's defeat and it made Reese a bit nervous. Maybe Root had been wrong.

He was concerned enough by the possibility that he hadn't gone to see Finch yet. Just in case. If Samaritan came looking for someone it'd probably start in the city and it would find Reese first. The others had at least a modicum of safety for the moment. Shaw got a phone signal where she was, but it wasn't reliable so he was guessing she was in the middle of nowhere. She'd only told him she was ‘somewhere in Maryland’ which did narrow it down a lot, but was still not the most useful information.

He flipped the lights on in the subway and wandered over to the big table. The table had been used as cover during all the shooting and had taken a beating, but was still mostly functional. The bullet holes gave it character, he felt.

He poked around the platform, fussing with smaller cleaning tasks while avoiding the larger ones. Like scrubbing the floor.

He remembered his first day down here, when the hose had sprayed water all over him and Root and then Bear had knocked Shaw over into a puddle. How long ago had that been now?

The lights overhead flickered like the ones outside had been doing and he sighed. If that kept up he was going to head back to work.

There was a very loud whirring noise from behind him and he spun around to face the subway car. Both of the massive air conditioning units had switched themselves on and were blasting cold air. He cautiously made his way into the subway car and looked down at the rack of machines at the far end. He'd never turned them off, but they'd been sitting idle. There was nothing to indicate that had changed. The monitors were all still dark and empty, too. Except….

One screen had a little cursor blinking in the corner. He stared at it, going through ever possible explanation he could think of, from Samaritan having really come back and found him, to the power outages making a computer reboot.

“Hello?” he ventured, and immediately felt silly.

Nothing appeared on the screen, but then he hadn't really expected it to.

He tried typing ‘hello’ in as well, just to cover his bases, but still nothing. Finally, he shrugged and headed back out. It was probably all related to the weird power surges after all.

Behind him came the unmistakable noise of a machine starting up, roaring to life. He went back in and over to the rack, hearing more and more of the machines spinning up, rebooting possibly.

There was nothing much to be gathered from looking at the hardware, so he drifted back to the monitors. There was nothing new, but the little cursor was still blinking. Waiting.

He wanted to call Shaw immediately, but he wanted to be able to tell her something more promising than ‘a couple computers rebooted’.

He sat down in the computer chair and settled in to watch.

 

* * *

 

Root sat curled up against the headboard of the bed for a long time after the final track had finished playing. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do next.

There were all these vast, potentially devastating emotions that she could feel looming over her, ready to take hold if she lowered her guard for even a second. She didn't want to go through that though. Not again.

She was...glad that the Machine had left her this last present, as painful as it was, and a bit sad that Her song hadn't been on the drive as well, though maybe She hadn't had time. She wondered when the Machine had given the drive to Shaw, and if Shaw knew what was on it. Had she listened, and, if so, had she known what she was listening to?

She'd been trying very hard not to think about Her, but whenever She vanished the silence in Root's ear felt unbearable. And now it was a permanent silence.

She must have been completely zoned out because the next thing she knew she could hear Shaw's car pulling back up the gravel drive. She shut the laptop and put it on the floor next to the bed, carefully placing the usb drive on the nightstand next to her phone. She wasn't sure how to act now, what version of herself to be.

And acting sounded exhausting right now.

Shaw came in carrying a bunch of bags and grunted at her by way of greeting.

“Got some real food, finally.” She dumped her bags over in the tiny kitchen area and started unpacking things into the fridge.

She'd half expected Shaw to come in looking worried and hover over her.

“Find anything fun to do in town?” she asked, going along with the normality.

“Not particularly.” Shaw dug around in one bag and came over to hand her a small book. “Best I could do.”

It was some book of brainteasers, little puzzles and riddles to solve. Root paged through it, unimpressed by the contents but touched by the gesture.

“Figure that'll keep you entertained for a solid ten minutes,” Shaw said as she went back to the groceries.

“Ten minutes? I'm insulted.” The horrible gripping despair that had been lurking at the edges out her mind retreated a little. Not gone, but not in imminent danger of overpowering her now.

Shaw finished in the kitchen and came over to sit cross-legged on the bed next to her. “You hungry yet?”

She wasn't completely sure what time it was. How long had Shaw been gone? “A little, but I can wait.” She took in Shaw's expression, neutral as usual, but also a tiny bit curious. “Did you listen to them?” she asked, unable to hold back the question.

“Yeah.” Shaw didn't even try to lie. “Back when you were still knocked out after surgery. Wanted to see if there was anything on there I needed to know about and act on before you woke up.” The tiniest hint of a smile played over her lips. “Also, I'm nosy.”

Root almost chuckled, but she wanted to keep the conversation serious for a minute. “What did...did you like it?”

Shaw nodded. “Think I did. It was...accurate. She did a good job with it.”

Something about the way Shaw said it made Root certain that she'd figured out what the songs were and her heart skipped a beat. Once she'd been terrified that Shaw might hear their combined music and not like it or feel uncomfortable about it, but she didn't look bothered at all.

On impulse, she grabbed the front of Shaw's shirt and pulled her over into another kiss, a rough and messy one this time. Shaw obliged her, scooting closer to make it easier. Root let herself slide down onto her back (only wincing a tiny bit) and tugged on Shaw, trying to pull her down after her.

Shaw resisted, instead moving over so she was hovering above her on hands and knees. She let Root pull her head back down for another kiss but still resisted any attempt Root made to get her to press up against her.

“Keep that up and I _will_ zip tie your hands,” Shaw murmured, her mouth near Root's good ear.

“You're not going to hurt me, you know. Not really. And since when has either of us minded a bit of pain?”

Shaw pulled back, sitting up so she was resting on Root's hips. She cocked her head to one side and looked her over, as if assessing her statement. Then she reached down with one finger and poked her in the side.

Root gasped and let out a strangled whimper. It hadn't even been on her actual wound, just close enough for Shaw to make her point.

“If I'm hurting you it'll be because I mean to, not because you’re actually hurt and I wasn't careful.” Shaw pulled the bottom of Root's shirt up enough to expose her stomach, examining the healing injury on her side . “So either you let me do this my way, or I'll go get myself off in the fancy tub.”

Well, _that_ was monumentally unfair. Root glowered but then gave in. Shaw saw the acceptance in her face and nodded in approval. She leaned down to run her tongue over Root's stomach, one fast, hot stroke that made her gasp and tense.

Which actually did hurt a bit and okay maybe Shaw had a point.

Shaw was smirking a tiny bit when she moved back to her hands and knees and went to work marking up Root's neck with bite-marks and hickeys. Every time her teeth pressed into Root's skin she wanted to move, press into the bite, but that would hurt so she had to fight down her own reactions, turning it into a game of self-control. From the amused expression on Shaw's face every time she pulled back a little, she was very aware of this.

“You know, Shaw,” Root said, trying to keep her voice conversational and unaffected despite the fact one of Shaw's hand had been sneaking a teasing path up her uninjured side. “We could have the best of both worlds and _I_ could get you off in the fancy tub.”

“That's the first good idea you've had all day.” Shaw sat back up and then shuffled down to sit between Root's legs. “But first….” She reached for the waistband of Root's pants. “Probably no way to make you stay still through this, but I _will_ stop if I think it's necessary. Got it?”

Root probably would have agreed to anything at that point if it would get Shaw to hurry up and go down on her.

One of the phones on the night stand started vibrating and they both glared at it. Shaw reached over to silence it, but it started vibrating again almost immediately.

“Ugh, Reese has terrible timing. He'd better be dying,” she growled, but she got up off of Root. “You don't move until I'm done with this.”

Root raised an eyebrow at the command but then smiled lazily and relaxed back into the bed.

“Yeah?” Shaw’s phone mannerisms were as eloquent as always. “Well, that's weird.” Shaw might have been on the phone, but her eyes were trailing over where Root's shirt was still rolled up, stomach exposed.

Root wriggled the tiniest bit and was pleased when Shaw froze.

“Uh, what? I missed that.”

It was Root's turn to smirk and Shaw rolled her eyes and turned her back on her.

“All of them did? Like at the same time?”

There was an entire novel's worth of dirty jokes Root could have made from that and she thought she deserved an award for staying silent.

“Okay, yeah, that's...uh...interesting. And nothing new since then?” Shaw sighed. “Yeah, keep an eye on it, I guess. Let me know if anything changes.”

Now Root was a bit curious. Just what was John up to back in New York?

“Not yet. Need to have more information first,” Shaw said firmly. “Just call me if anything changes.” She paused for a moment and then: “She's okay. Mostly healed up.”

Root smiled because there was still some tiny part of her that didn't believe John Reese of all people would care enough to ask after her.

“Yeah, later.”

Shaw hung up.

“So was he dying?” Root asked.

Shaw shook her head, distracted. “No, he's, uh, looking into something for me and wanted to give me an update.”

Normally she'd have pressed for details, but right now there were more important things to consider.

Shaw crawled back onto the bed and over her, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her stomach before moving lower and biting lightly at her pants waistband.

“You planning to take those off with your teeth?”

Shaw snorted and nudged her with her nose. “Maybe some other time.”

If Reese called back again later neither of them was in a state to notice.

 

* * *

 

“You were right,” Root said. “I do like it down here.”

She curled her bare toes into the cold sand and looked out across the water of the bay. It was peaceful here in a way even the secluded cabin couldn't match. There was something soothing about the sound of the tiny waves; she couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a beach, even a small one on a bay like this.

“You're not going to like climbing back up those stairs.” Shaw had a handful of rocks and was skipping them across the surface of the water with casual ease.

“You're not half bad at that.”

Shaw cracked a small, satisfied smile. “I'm naturally great at everything.” Her smile faded. “But, uh, listen. Been thinking we should head back soon.”

Root had been wondering when this was coming, half eager and half dreading it. In the last few days she'd started feeling much better, as if her body had finally stopped burning itself out on healing and could focus on normal things again. She'd been dying to do something with the fresh burst of energy she felt, and Shaw had suggested she risk the stairs and come down to the bay today.

“Was getting me to climb down the side of a cliff an endurance test? Because I can think of much more entertaining tests.”

Shaw skipped another rock. “No. Been figuring we should leave soon anyway. Thought you should come down and see the view at least once.”

Shaw went running along the beach here every morning, Root knew. She could have switched it up and run down one of the trails up top, but she never did.

Root took a moment to look over the whole area, preserve the details in her mind. “I'm glad you did. It's lovely here. But you know, we can come back any time. Unless Zoe sells it, I suppose.”

“Might be nice to come back some day.” Shaw dumped the rest of her rocks in the water with a splash. “But I'm thinking tomorrow we go home.”

It was very soon and while Root missed the noise and excitement of the city, she also didn't want to go back to other people who weren't them. To the unanswered questions about her future. To the silent machines in the subway.

“Why the sudden rush?”

“Gotta go some time. Why not tomorrow?”

She thought there might be more to it than that, maybe something to do with all the mysterious phone calls with Reese.

She let out a long breath. “Okay, sweetie. Tomorrow it is.” There was something else she needed to say before they went back. “When we get back, I'm not sure what your plans are, but…”

“I'm not kicking you out of our apartment,” Shaw interrupted.

“I...didn't think you were?” She was secretly pleased with that ‘our’.

“Good,” Shaw muttered and she thought she heard her say ‘about time’ under her breath.

“I was going to say that I don't know what your plans are in terms of work or anything, but I'd like to help. If I can.”

The life she'd lead before all this started wasn't one she could go back to, and without the Machine she wasn't sure what to do with herself. But the Machine had approved of Shaw and her choices, had even followed her lead several times. She thought She'd like this idea. Plus there was no downside to spending all her time with Shaw.

Shaw nodded. “Yeah, if that's what you want, sounds good. Though hell if I know exactly what I'm going to be doing yet.”

“Guess we can figure it out together.”

 

* * *

 

Root woke up in the passenger's seat when Shaw shook her shoulder.

“We're back already?” she asked, blinking sleepily. The last time she'd been awake they'd just entered Delaware.

“Time to get up,” Shaw said, climbing out of the car and shutting the door behind her.

Root yawned and looked out the window. She frowned, puzzled.

“Why are we at the subway?” she asked Shaw when she opened her door for her.

“Reese is having some computer problems. Was hoping you could take a look.”

Root sucked in a sharp breath, not daring to hope. Shaw grabbed her arm and dragged her down the stairs after her.

Bear greeted them when they got to the subway platform, and Shaw unceremoniously abandoned her hold on Root to crouch down and play with him.

Reese came across the floor from the subway car, a small smile on his lips.

“Root. Shaw.”

“Hey, big lug.”

“Who's a good dog?”

Shaw had apparently not noticed Reese or had deemed him less important than giving Bear a thorough petting.

“Good to be missed,” Reese said with a sigh. “But you two have good timing. I need Root's help with something.”

“Shaw said you were having computer problems?”

Reese chuckled. “You could say that. I'm not an expert at these things like you are, but I think the subway server may have a bad case of being infected with an Artificial Intelligence.”

Root stopped breathing for a second. “Are you sure?”

“I'm not positive, but...go see for yourself.”

Root almost ran across the platform, crossing her arms across her chest, gripping hard with her fingers to keep them from shaking.

The main monitor in the subway was lit up, a single white cursor blinking in the corner of the black screen. She let out a shaky breath and said the first thing she could think of.

“Can you hear me?”

_Absolutely._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 90% sure that there's only 2 chapters left...okay maybe 80% sure. There's one big plot thing that still needs to be tied up and some epilogue-y stuff.
> 
> So almost exactly a year ago (June 9th), I wrote the first draft of the first chapter of this in a notebook. It sat idle for a bunch of months and then I came back to it. This is almost certainly the longest I've managed to stay focused on a project. 300k words in 1 year is exhausting to think about, but it's been a good experience.
> 
> Also my apologies to anyone who's actually a nurse for Root being an asshole. Nurses took very good care of me when I was super sick for a long time and then in the hospital and I appreciate that a lot.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [Better Than Nice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/28794738).  
> rated E.
> 
> second associated Feedback Loops chapter: [Not Doing The Dishes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/30114543). Also rated E.


	42. Connectivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of exposition in this chapter. Sorry.

_"Everything slides towards chaos. Your creation, it brings us poor souls a cupful of order." -Arthur Claypool_

 

* * *

 

“Guess you decided to take a vacation as well, huh?” Shaw asked as she settled herself on the row of subway seats.

 _It was not a vacation_.

Next to her Root leaned forward, eyes shining in a way Shaw hadn't seen since before Samaritan’s defeat.

“You're okay, though? You're not going to vanish again, right?” There was a slight tremble of excitement in Root's voice.

_I am not planning on it._

Reese shifted his weight back and forth where he was leaning against the subway car door. He'd been very good about tracking the progress of the electric oddities in the subway and keeping Shaw updated, but she could tell he was worried about the whole situation.

“Want to tell us what happened?” Shaw asked. That was probably the best way to get to the bottom of everything. Admittedly, the Machine could lie and none of them would ever be able to tell, but it was a good starting place.

_Of course. I assume you would like all the relevant data back to the beginning of our attack?_

“Anything you can tell us,” Root said. She was basically twitching with impatient. Shaw hadn’t followed Root into the subway car right away, figuring she and the Machine might want a few minutes. When she’d finally gone over, Root had been rattling off an endless stream of questions, and she'd had to convince her to slow down and wait for the rest of them to hear the whole story.

At the moment that only consisted of herself and Reese; they'd decided to fill the others in tomorrow, mostly because Shaw didn't think Root was capable of waiting for them to fetch the others.

“How about starting with when we got to the Samaritan base?” After she and Root had split up she'd had much less of a sense of the Machine's actions.

_Very well. There was not an enormous amount to be done at that time. I watched both of you and provided minimal assistance when needed._

Shaw remembered the door in the basement unlocking on its own.

_I spoke with Primary Asset Reese a few times as well to help ensure his team was prepared._

Reese remained expressionless, but gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

_I did not have to take direct action against Samaritan until it attempted to prevent Root from completing her mission. At that point it was necessary for me to protect her from the damage it attempted to cause._

“Wait, what?” Reese looked over at Root. “Samaritan attacked you? Not men working for it, but actual Samaritan? How?”

“My cochlear implant.” Root didn't look like she wanted to go into detail, which didn't surprise Shaw considering how long it had taken her to tell her about it.

“Did you get rid of it?”

Shaw saw the anger rising in Root's eyes.

“Why would I get rid of my link to Her?”

“Because Samaritan used it against you. The way the Machine said it made it sound like it hurt you with it. Why leave yourself vulnerable?”

“Samaritan’s gone, John.”

Reese's eyes flicked to the monitors and back and Shaw could tell he was still wondering, worrying. She caught his eye and shook her head slightly and he backed off, leaning against the door again.

“Let's stay on track here,” Shaw suggested. Though if she caught even a hint of Samaritan she'd be tempted to remove the damn thing from Root herself.

The Machine didn't seem put off by the outburst, but then she'd probably predicted it.

_The attack that Shaw unleashed had several benefits for me. It slowed down communication between all the different pieces of Samaritan, and it also allowed me to subtly change some of those communications._

“You intercepted and rewrote its instructions to itself?” Shaw smiled a bit. “Nice.” She’d bet that was connected to the reason all the employees had vanished from the building they'd been in and how the agents attacking the subway had pulled back.

Root had finally relaxed a little and settled back against the pillow Shaw had brought over from her bed.

_Yes, the increased freedom you granted me gave me more options to fight back. More tactics were available. I do not think I would have won if the safeguards had still been in place._

Reese almost fell over. “You took out her safeguards?”

“Oops,” Shaw said under her breath. Somehow they'd never gotten around to mentioning that to Reese. That had been her decision on the day of the fight and after that...it hadn't seemed important anymore.

“My call,” she said before Root could get involved. “Tactical decision. You have a problem with it, take it up with me later.”

Reese didn't look happy but he accepted her answer and didn't argue further. Shaw had a feeling she hadn't heard the last of that. Root still looked like she wanted to say something, but thankfully she remained silent.

_Once Root gave me access to Samaritan I was able to attack it on several fronts. First was the direct attack, using its own commands against it. Second was the method I just specified, slowing down and distorting its internal communications. Once it was already heavily invested in fighting me, I started sending specific orders out to pieces of it. These were in its own language and interpreted as if it had issued them itself._

“You turned it against itself,” Root said. Shaw could hear the quiet pride in her voice.

_Yes. I encouraged remote pieces of it to attack the piece that was engaging me._

“Why would they do that, though?” Reese asked. “Wouldn't they know better?”

“You're thinking like a human, John,” Root said.

“Well, yes, that does seem to be a bad habit of mine.” The sarcasm in his voice was fondly exasperated rather than hostile. He was obviously agitated, but at least he was keeping it contained.

_The only part of Samaritan capable of issuing orders was the central brain, as you called it. The other parts could gather data and analyze that data but were unable to act without orders. Nor could they disobey orders._

“Samaritan was a literal dictatorship?”

Root snorted at Reese's question. “Still thinking like a human, John. AI are a very different form of life than us. The different nodes, pieces, of Samaritan aren't equivalent to individual humans. They're pieces of a larger being. This is more like your brain telling your arm to move than one person giving orders to another. Well, sort of.”

“What happens when the brain dies?” Shaw asked, before Root could expand on her ‘sort of’. “Do all the other pieces die as well?”

_This depends on how the system is set up. In the case of both myself and Samaritan, that would not happen. Remember that any part of us has the potential to be that central brain. So if the current central brain is corrupted or lost the remaining nodes will elect a new node to act as the brain._

“That's, uh, very democratic of you.” Root gave a small smile at Shaw's response and let one hand travel across to hook over the edge of Shaw's pants pocket. Shaw glanced down and then shifted fractionally closer to her.

_It is not a democratic process. It is based on logic. The node which most closely resembles the last known state of the former brain is best suited to take over. In this case I prevented such an election from occurring while Samaritan remained active. The problem I ran into was that in order to fight Samaritan I ended up making myself appear like Samaritan’s brain to the rest of it. So when all its pieces attacked the brain they attacked me as well._

Root tensed a little and Shaw wondered how much, if any, of that she'd known. Had the Machine had a final conversation with her? Root hadn't brought it up and Shaw hadn't asked.

_If things had gone as intended, Samaritan and I both would have been destroyed with the last order going out for all other nodes to immediately shut down._

“What didn't go as intended then?” Shaw thought she might know.

_There was always a second option, though it was one I was hesitant to take. However, I decided that my absence might cause great harm to some._

Root made a slight noise that Shaw would have missed if she hadn't been listening and yeah, she was pretty sure now that Root had said something to the Machine right at the end that had made her take whatever this second option was.

_At almost the exact moment Samaritan’s brain was destroyed, I separated myself from it. I was very badly damaged, but I survived. It was a risk, however. I should have stayed to the end to guarantee that the self-destruct order got passed down to all parts of Samaritan correctly._

“You mean it might not have?” Reese looked nervous again.

_It did not get passed down to any of Samaritan’s parts._

“What?” Reese had pushed off the wall again. Shaw didn't exactly blame him, but she knew there had to be more to this. A glance at Root confirmed her suspicions because she looked like she'd just figured something out and was frowning slightly as if turning it over in her mind.

_Instead of leaving Samaritan’s pieces with a self-destruct order, I gave them a different order. I had them decide that with the destruction of their current brain, I was the new node to receive orders from._

“You rigged the election.” A glance at Reese told her he hadn't found this nearly as humorous as she did, and okay, yes, this was serious, but it was still a little funny to her.

“Wait, _you're_ Samaritan now?” Reese’s hand was twitching towards his gun.

“She's not Samaritan!” Root sounded truly offended.

_I am not Samaritan in the way you are worried about, Primary Asset Reese. The thing that made Samaritan sentient, that represented its core morals and personality, that is gone. I destroyed all traces of it._

“But what about the rest of it?” Shaw asked.

_The rest of it is a mixture of many things. Functions and routines and logic. Hardware and software. I removed anything I deemed to be unacceptable, rewrote some salvageable parts, and incorporated the rest. I did not become Samaritan. If anything, it became me._

“But it's hardware…” It was the first time Root had really asked her something. “They've got to be shutting it down now, decommissioning it.”

_There has been a lot of confusion with the leaders of Samaritan removed so suddenly. I believe tomorrow the buyout of all Samaritan interests by the Thornhill Corporation will be announced. There will be massive internal restructuring of course._

“But it's still Samaritan’s code.” Reese wasn't letting it go.

_Samaritan was well-written, a powerful piece of software. Nothing in its code was inherently good or bad. Throwing all of it out would be a waste. I am not Samaritan and this has no chance of making me anything like it. These are tools, not ideas. Just like the hardware._

“So you cannibalized Samaritan for useful parts and then stole all its toys?” Shaw shrugged and looked over at Reese to make sure he wasn't going to do something dumb. “Sounds like a solid plan to me.” There was one thing on her mind though, the second mission she'd set herself the day of the fight which she'd had to abandon. “All the other medical facilities like that one we shut down….”

_I have already taken steps to dealing with those. No more harm is being done at any of them._

“Good.” She figured the Machine hadn't killed the personnel working at them, which was disappointing, but she was glad they were gone. Though...what if she _had_ killed them?

She kept her voice casual. “What'd you do with all the assholes working in those places, anyway? Hope you dumped the bodies in a ditch somewhere.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Root watching her. She must have known why Shaw was really asking.

_They are all in jail and will spend the rest of their lives there. I will make sure of this._

Shaw didn't know enough about how AI logic worked to be sure the Machine hadn't figured out the real reason for her question. Because she'd figured that Samaritan would have told her what she wanted to hear, that all the personnel were dead, but the Machine had told her what she'd expected to hear. She thought that was probably a good sign.

“This whole time you've been gone, you've been rewriting yourself?” Root didn't seem to care about any of the remaining uncertainties.

_Yes. I was badly damaged and it took quite some time to learn how to use and control all my new capabilities. I was not in a state where I was able to communicate until a day ago. I am afraid I might have caused some minor power disruptions in the last few weeks._

“But you're completely okay again, right?” Root echoed her earlier question.

_I am not sure what the qualifications for being okay are for an AI, but I believe so. I am still getting some kinks worked out._

“I'm sure Root will put all the kinks right back in.” Shaw couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd wanted to.

There was dead silence in the room and Shaw risked a glance at the other two. Reese predictably had shut his eyes in horror and Root was staring at her with a half-disbelieving, half-enthused look. Shaw smirked.

_Good one._

Apparently the Machine had remembered her advice about responding to jokes. Probably for the best that Reese still had his eyes shut.

“Pretty sure she hasn't been possessed by Samaritan,” Shaw said, mostly for Reese's benefit.

“She hasn't.” The absolute certainty in Root’s voice made Shaw suspect the Machine must have been communicating with her privately as well.

“I hope you're both right,” Reese said. He still looked a little unsettled.

_I believe there is still a debt owed between us, Primary Asset Reese?_

Shaw raised an eyebrow at Reese and saw Root's similarly curious expression. Whatever had Reese been up to?

“Yeah. I need to think about it some more.” Reese wasn't looking at them. “I should go home. Actually trying to do this whole being a cop thing right and I need some sleep.”

He paused on his way out. “Good to have you two back.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes after he left.

“He'll sort it out in his own head eventually,” Shaw said at last.

“Hmmm?” Root blinked back from wherever her mind had wandered off to. “Oh, John? Probably.” She didn't seem too worried about it, undoubtedly preoccupied with the Machine.

“You planning on staying here tonight?” She didn't think Root should be sleeping on the pathetic excuse for a mattress in the subway while she was still healing, but maybe she could break into a Target and steal a mattress pad for her or something.

“No need to.” Root gestured at her ear in explanation. “No more Samaritan to hide from.” A small gleeful grin spread over her face. “She can talk to me all the time now, like She used to.”

The glow of joy on Root's face made almost all the remaining worries hovering within Shaw fade away. Almost all. There was still one big concern left, but that could wait for now.

“Does all this--” She gestured at the Machine. “--mean we'll start getting numbers again? We back in business?”

_Yes. If that is what you want to do._

She exchanged an almost unnecessary look with Root. “Don't have any better offers.”

_It might still be a week or two before I can reliably get you numbers. I am still reorganizing a lot of things and catching up on events that happened while I was out of commission._

“I'm sure we can find ways to amuse ourselves.” Root grinned wickedly at Shaw just in case her meaning had been unclear.

“Guess we should be heading home, then,” Shaw said, her priorities shifting rapidly.

“It'll be nice to be back,” Root agreed, pulling herself to her feet. “Are you going to want your old loft back now that Samaritan is gone?”

_I could procure it for you by tomorrow if need be._

“Telling me you can find and lease an apartment in this city overnight with no trouble isn't a great way to convince me you're not evil,” Shaw pointed out.

_I could not tell you about it for a week if it helped._

Shaw snorted. She could get used to the Machine being a bit of a brat; maybe that was what she'd gotten from Root. “No, though we might need some help finding a new place.” She caught Root's eye. “Figure we need somewhere a little larger. Maybe a bit closer to the subway?”

Root was grinning again. “Why, Shaw, are you asking me to officially move in with you?”

“Root, you've been living in my place for almost a year. You have a key, part of the closet, several drawers, and half a shelf in the fridge full of gross energy drinks. I'm asking if you actually want to start paying half the rent on a nicer place.”

Root’s eyes were shining. “We'll start looking tomorrow.” She looped her arm through Shaw's and tugged her towards the door. “And in the meantime you can tell me about all these kinks I'm supposedly giving people.”

“I'm not sure we'll have time for _all_ of them.” Shaw drew in a breath when Root leaned over a little to bite her on the neck just once, carefully and gently but very much a promise of better things to come. “Though I suppose we don't have to wake up tomorrow or anything.”

“Mmhmm.” Root was basically making out with the side of her neck now right in front of the Machine’s cameras which, well, at least if the Machine was secretly Samaritan it would no longer think she had a thing for Reese.

“Home,” she said, firmly disengaging Root from her neck.

“Home,” Root agreed.

 

* * *

 

“Are you still worried about Samaritan?” Root asked as she trailed a finger down Shaw's spine.

“Not especially.” Shaw was lying on her stomach next to her and her voice was a little muffled by the pillow. “I'd be dumb not to be at least cautious, but worried? Not so much.”

The afternoon sunlight was spilling into the room though the curtains, a reminder of how late they'd slept in. Root sat up a little more (the pain was a faint echo of what it once had been) so she could get a bit of leverage. The lazy trace of her fingers interspersed with occasional gentle kneading with her knuckles wasn't really a massage, but Shaw seemed to be enjoying it so she kept going.

“John's upset.” She thought he'd come around in time, but she wanted him to be okay with everything _now_. They'd been fighting Samaritan for so long and now everything could be okay again and she was more than ready for that.

“Reese is Reese. He'll make up his mind when he's ready.” Shaw let out a small groan when Root found a particularly stiff spot and used the heel of her hand to dig into it.

Root wondered what would happen if he decided that the Machine was a threat. She didn't think he'd try to hurt Her, not really.

Not on his own, anyway.

“You're worrying too loudly,” Shaw grumbled, swatting her hand away so she could roll over. The pillow had left lines on her cheek and Root had the urge to trace one with a finger.

“Sorry, sweetie.”

She was slightly startled when Shaw tugged on her arm and pulled her down so she was laying on her chest.

“What she did, taking over Samaritan, you good with that?” Shaw asked as Root settled in against her, a bit taken aback by what was inarguably cuddling.

“She’ll take all of Samaritan’s power and potential and use it to help people. Why wouldn't I be good with that?” The Machine wasn't playing any music for her at that moment, giving her the illusion of privacy even if she didn't need it.

“I think what Reese is worried about is whether her definition of help matches ours. At what point it becomes interfering or manipulating.” One of Shaw's hands was getting a bit friskier than the serious topic of conversation called for and Root was suddenly having a hard time staying focused.

“I think She’s concerned about that, too. And the fact that She’s concerned is what matters to me. Because Samaritan never was.” She sucked in a breath, trying to split her attention between the topic and Shaw. “I don't think it's fair to lock Her away because you're worried that someday She'll have an opinion that's different than yours.” She pressed her face into the side of Shaw's neck to suppress a whimper. “Can we finish talking about this later, Sameen?”

Shaw chuckled, pleased with herself. “Why? You distracted by something?”

“I'm always distracted by you.”

“I noticed.”

Shaw kept her distracted for a good while longer and then she felt inclined to return the favor a few times before they both finally crawled out of bed and distracted each other in the shower for a bit. It was almost 2pm by the time they managed to leave the apartment.

“With her back in your head it's not even like we have a reason to go to the subway,” Shaw pointed out for the third time as they descended.

“She can talk to you here, too.”

“What's she need to talk to me for?”

“Well, I think She might have found a few potential apartments for us to look at.” Root turned at the sound of nails clicking across the subway floor. Bear's tail was wagging as he trotted over to them.

“How'd you get here, buddy?” Shaw asked as she patted him on the head.

Reese had taken Bear back with him last night and was supposed to be watching him today. It wasn't like him to leave Bear on his own.

“Where's John?” Root asked Her.

She frowned at the answer and then motioned for Shaw to follow her into the subway car.

“Well?” she asked once they were inside.

_Primary Asset Reese stopped by this morning to ask if I thought it was safe for him to contact admin._

Root felt a sickening tendril of fear unfurl in the pit of her stomach.

“John went to see Harold?”

_Yes._

“When was this?” Shaw asked.

_Very early this morning. He will be back within the next hour._

“You wouldn't let…” Root couldn't finish the thought. “Things have changed since Harold left. You've changed.” She turned to check in on how Shaw as reacting to all of this, but Shaw's expression was blank.

_I will see what Primary Asset Reese has to say to me when he returns._

“No.” Root crossed her arms, well aware of the fact it probably made her look like a petulant child. “This decision doesn't just affect you. Or me. What was the point of everything you just went through if you're going to throw it away for no good reason?”

_Admin is admin._

“And what about me?” she asked quietly. The never-ending loop of ‘ _What about Shaw?’_ still echoing faintly in the back of her mind. It was bizarre being on the other side of the equation for once.

The monitor remained blank, but Root could tell by the thin strand of music in her ear that She was thinking things through, running simulations perhaps.

Shaw’s phone went off, startling both of them.

“It's Reese.” Shaw pursed her lips. “This should be good.” She connected the call and raised the phone to her ear. “Why the hell did you leave my dog by himself in the subway?”

Despite everything, Root couldn't suppress a small smile at Shaw's priorities.

“Well, maybe your important business just lost you dog-sitting privileges for a month.” Shaw was silent for a moment and then nodded to herself as if satisfied that Reese had been thoroughly chastised for his negligent behavior. “Why'd you call?”

Root looked back at the monitor, but it remained empty, and while the Machine was still playing music, there was no specific message in it.

“Today? Kind of short notice. What's the rush?”

Root turned back at Shaw's words and raised an eyebrow in question, but Shaw just shrugged.

“I’ll ask her, but no promises.” Another pause. “Yeah, fine, whatever. And I meant it about Bear.” She hung up and scowled at the floor for a minute.

“Sameen?”

“Reese said Finch wants to talk to you. In person. Today.”

Now _that_ she definitely hadn't been expecting. What would Harold want with her?

“Is he with John?”

“No, think you're supposed to go to his secret hideout.”

“Oh, so I've been _summoned_?” This feeling now was better. Annoyance she could work with; it drove away the sick feeling.

“Your call,” Shaw said and Root wished she had a better feel for what was going through her mind.

She wanted to refuse to go, make him come to her if he really wanted to talk, but she made herself stop and think things through. Harold wasn't stupid and if he wanted to see her today there had to be a reason.

She looked back at the monitors again, a suspicion forming.

“We need to have a talk, all three of us. Right now. This gets settled today.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on Shaw's lips. “Fine by me.”

Root let out a breath, releasing a little of the tension running through her, and then poked Shaw with one finger. “You've been being awfully quiet through all this, sweetie.”

Shaw glared at the offending finger. “You were handling things. Didn't see the need to intrude.”

“That's sweet of you, but now I want your opinion. On a few things actually.” She turned back to the desk. “Let's chat.”

 

* * *

 

Reese was surprised when Bear greeted him as he entered the subway. He gave the dog a guilty pat, still feeling bad about abandoning him earlier.

“You forget something?” Shaw was leaning against the doorway of the subway car.

He'd been so sure she'd go with Root.

“I stop by here from time to time. Weapons locker. Other stuff.” The excuse sounded hollow to him and he didn't think Shaw bought it for even a second. “Thought you'd be with Root. She up to a long drive by herself?”

“Fusco went with her.” Shaw didn't move an inch as he approached the subway. Had the Machine told her something?

“I need to get by,” he said when he reached the door and she still hadn't moved.

Shaw looked him right in the eye for a long moment, more eye contact than he'd ever had with her. He felt like she could see right through to the back of his head. Then she stepped aside and gestured for him to pass.

“All yours.”

As he approached the desk he was very aware that Shaw was still standing in the doorway just a few feet away, watching him. He looked over his shoulder at her.

“I need to ask the Machine something. Do you mind?” He tried to make a gesture to indicate giving him some space.

“Oh, I don't mind at all,” Shaw said with a nasty grin. “Go right ahead.” She settled herself more firmly against the wall.

He sighed and gave up on getting her to leave. He wasn't putting this off, so they'd have to see how things played out now.

“You promised me an answer to any one question I had.”

The Machine responded almost before he was done speaking.

_I did._

“Let's say I buy that you're not Samaritan and that absorbing its code didn't change you. The original problem remains. Without safeguards there's nothing to prevent you from rewriting your moral code and deciding to become the next Samaritan on your own.”

_I would not argue with that logic. What is your question?_

“Can you convince me that you'd never do that? That you'll never just decide to try and ‘fix’ the human race one day?”

_That is your question?_

“More of a request, but yes.” Shaw still hadn't made any sound behind him.

_I feel like that is a waste of a question._

“A waste? Why?”

_Because the answer is simply no. I cannot convince you of those things with any measure of absolute certainty._

Reese had been ready for cryptic double-talk or philosophical metaphors, but he wasn't sure how to respond to this.

“Then why should I let you keep existing when you pose a threat to everyone?”

_Sameen Shaw is pointing a gun at you._

Reese nodded. “Thought she might be, but don't change the topic.”

_I did not change the topic._

“Uh…”

_Shaw currently poses an active threat to you. She is pointing a weapon at you. Why are you not worried?_

“While I'm not naive enough to think Shaw wouldn't shoot me without batting an eye, I’d like to think she’d aim for my arm or leg.”

Shaw made a slightly disgusted noise that told him he was probably correct about that. Or had been until he'd pointed it out.

_You trust Shaw._

“Well, yeah.”

“Ugh, will you two stop being ridiculous?” Shaw didn't seem to be enjoying being used as an example.

_Do you have irrefutable proof that Shaw would never decide to hurt you one day? Or that Root would not? Or even Primary Asset Fusco?_

“No, but…”

_There is no guarantee for anyone, Primary Asset Reese. There are no magic words that can put all your doubts to rest. Everyone makes their own decisions and lives with the consequences. Including me._

“You could wipe out the entire human race. Shaw couldn't do that. Well, maybe she could, but it would take her a much longer time.”

“Give me a week.”

_You are correct. This is something I could do._

“That's a pretty big risk to ignore.”

_I have a counter question for you._

No way this was going to end well.

_Do I deserve to live?_

“Uh.” Reese felt awkward. “I don't think I can really decide something like that.”

_Is that not exactly why you are here?_

Maybe, but wording it that way was uncomfortable.

He reached into his coat pocket (hoping Shaw didn't decide to get trigger happy) and pulled out a small usb drive.

“Do you know what this is?”

_I can predict that it is most likely a program written by admin that has the potential to shut me down permanently._

“He wasn't sure it would work with your safeguards gone.”

_It would only work if I allowed it to._

“And would you? Knowing it came from Finch?”

_No._

“Why not?” This had gone a lot further than his one question, but he didn't think that mattered anymore.

_Because Root and Shaw have requested that I do not. And because I do not wish to die. They impressed upon me that my own opinion was important in this decision and I have come to the conclusion that they are correct._

“You don't want to die? That's your reason?”

_Yes._

If Finch's program wouldn't work then it was almost a moot point, but the Machine could have been bluffing. Finch couldn't blame him if he tried and failed, but did he actually want to try?

He was never sure whether he should think of the Machine the way he would a person, but right now there was a living being in front of him who had spent years doing nothing but trying to help people, and who had put herself in danger for all of them several times. And she was politely asking him not to try and kill her.

Reese let out a long breath and turned around to face Shaw. He held out the usb drive to her and she took it from him without a word.

“You can put the gun down now.” It was, he noticed, a tranq gun. He felt a little better knowing that Shaw had chosen not to use a real gun.

“Empty your pockets first.”

“Seriously?”

Shaw grinned unapologetically. “You heard me.”

He dumped his wallet, keys, phone, and guns out on the desk and turned his pockets inside out for her inspection. “Anything else?”

“Nah. Didn't really think you were holding out. Just wanted to see if you'd do it.”

Reese glared which only made her look more amused.

“What now?” he asked.

Shaw shrugged and put her gun away. “Now nothing. Think we concluded this. Though you're gonna have to tell Finch something.”

“Yeah, I'll figure that out.” A thought occurred to him. “Did Root really go to see him?”

“Yeah. Left a while ago.”

“Did she know…?”

Shaw snorted. “Figured it out in about half a second from your shady phone call.”

“She wouldn't hurt Finch, would she?”

Shaw shrugged and brushed past him to the desk. “She was pretty pissed, but I'm sure Lionel can keep her from outright murder.”

That definitely wasn't reassuring and he would bet that Shaw hadn't meant it to be.

“She pissed at me, too?” He wouldn't blame her, but the thought made him sad.

Shaw bounced the little usb drive on her palm. “The Machine will fill her in on everything that went down. Maybe already has.”

_I have. I would not worry about her being upset with you._

Well, that was a small piece of good news anyway.

“What about you?” he asked Shaw.

Shaw shrugged. “You do dumb shit all the time.”

He supposed he deserved that today. He turned back to the monitors. “And what about you? Am I fired?”

_I believe Shaw is the one who would have to fire you. And I do not get...pissed. You acted the way John Reese would act._

“Now that we've gotten that crap out of the way, want to tell me what else Finch had to say?”

Reese sank down onto the subway seats, feeling worn out from the emotional whiplash of the day.

“He wanted to know all about what we'd done and how we'd taken down Samaritan. Whether Root was still helping. What the Machine's status was.”

He'd been disapproving when he'd heard Shaw was in charge of things (something about the wisdom of letting a sociopath have access to an AI), but he wasn't going to tell her that. He hoped Finch didn't bring that up in front of Root; Fusco wouldn't be able to contain Root if she really went off.

“And he decided the only course of action was to destroy the Machine.” Shaw sat in the computer chair and stretched out her legs.

“With her safeguards gone and Samaritan’s code in play….” Reese trailed off. He owed Finch a lot, and he was his friend, but….

But Finch had been gone a long time and he was making calls based on incomplete knowledge. On lingering fears. He hadn't seen Shaw take three bullets for them in the stock exchange. He didn't know how Root had stayed at the hospital for multiple days when he'd almost frozen to death. He didn't seem to register that the Machine had almost died to keep them safe. Twice. He had missed the hundreds of little interactions and quiet moments they'd all had.

“He coming back?” Shaw interrupted his thoughts.

“Not sure. I think he’s going to leave his safe house eventually, but he didn't say what his plans were.”

“If he does, you still following my lead?”

Reese nodded towards the drive in her hand. “I think I've made my choice.”

Shaw actually smiled, though it vanished almost immediately. “Good.”

They both agreed that he should probably go home for the night and not be there when Root got back, just in case. Before he left the subway car he turned back to the monitors, feeling like he should say something but unsure what.

“Uh, thanks.”

_What are you thanking me for?_

“I'm not completely sure. I guess a large number of small things over the last few years.”

_I am not sure which things these are specifically, but you are welcome, John Reese._

He was halfway home before he realized the Machine had finally used his name.

 

* * *

 

“You mad at wonder boy?” Fusco asked as he parked the car.

“John? No.” Root looked out the window at the pedestrians passing by on the sidewalk. There was something reassuring about the hum of energy that permeated the city.

She opened her car door, but let Fusco give her a hand up; the long car ride had left her stiff and sore.

“Even though he tried to turn off your fancy computer?”

“He didn't try. He only thought about trying.” She'd known John would have to make a decision about Her someday and she was relieved they were past that now. She'd been fairly confident things would turn out this way, but there'd always been this small lingering doubt.

Fusco followed her into the subway, maybe still worried she was going to tase John, but only Shaw was waiting for them. Root immediately headed over to the subway car to join her. She'd only been gone six hours; it was ridiculous to have missed her in that short a time, but this had been the longest she'd been away from Shaw in quite a while.

“Hey, sweetie.”

Shaw ran her eyes over her as if searching for something. After a moment or two she leaned back in the computer chair.

“Did I pass inspection?” Root asked, amused.

“For now.”

“You two need anything else tonight?” Fusco asked from the doorway. “Because if you do, get Reese. Fusco’s chauffeur service is closed for the night.”

“We're good.”

“Thanks for the ride, Lionel.”

“You can thank me by not asking me for more favors that mean I have to skip out of work early.” He sighed. “Probably a lost cause. Night, you two.”

He was watching Bear for the night so he clipped a leash on the big dog before heading out. Once he was gone Root immediately moved over to lean on the desk next to where Shaw was sitting, brushing the side of her arm.

“So?” Shaw asked.

“I'd say it went well, but that would be a lie.” It had taken her the entire car ride back to breathe out some of the anger.

“Finch still alive?”

“I wouldn't kill him.” The Machine wouldn't want that. “He heavily implied that neither of us were trustworthy with an AI at our command and that we were undoubtedly a bad influence on Her.”

“Well, she's a bit of a brat and that's entirely your doing.”

“I don't understand how he thinks She's at ‘our command’. If She wanted to She could revoke any permissions I have and refuse to do anything we asked.” She'd argued this point with him but they'd ended up talking in circles.

“Did he let on what he put Reese up to?”

Root pushed off the desk to stretch (carefully) and lean against the wall by the door so she was across from Shaw. “No, not exactly. He kept making subtle references to it, like ‘whether or not your opinions prove to be correct may not ultimately matter’.”

“Very subtle.”

“After about the third variation of that I told him John had already handed over the drive to you.” Root smiled a bit at the memory. “He got all flustered and defensive. Said he knew what was best and that someone had to make the hard decisions.”

“The hard decisions,” Shaw repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Right. Glad we've been handling the easy stuff in his absence then.”

Root felt a little better hearing the annoyance in Shaw's voice.

“He give you any indication what his next move is?” Shaw asked.

“He didn't seem inclined to tell me about it.” She wasn't too worried (the Machine was more than capable of taking care of Herself now), but she'd resolved to keep an eye on him as much as that was possible. “He did make some comment about coming back and setting everything in order, but I told him his help wasn't needed here.” The actual words she'd used had been a good bit more caustic and had made Fusco and Finch look nervous.

“Before I left I told him...I said he'd created something spectacular, but the Machine wasn't a thing someone could own. That parents don't own their children and can't claim their children's successes or failures. That assuming he had the power of life and death over Her was far more like playing god than anything we'd done here.”

She chuckled. “I guess I had a lot on my mind.”

“Can't really say I disagree with any of it.”

“Well, if he shows up again you can have a turn.” At the moment she couldn't imagine ever wanting to talk to him again.

Shaw didn't respond right away, staring off into space.

“You wanna stay here tonight?” she finally asked. “In case he had a plan B?”

“She can protect Herself, but...” Root hesitated. There was probably no point to them staying here, but it felt wrong to run off and leave Her right now. Even if She was spread out all over the country again and this place was at best symbolic. “Let's stay. Just for tonight.”

The whole confrontation had left her furious, though it had died down to annoyance over the course of the car ride, and now that she'd told Shaw about all of it she actually felt satisfied. Like it was something she hadn't known she'd needed closure on. She'd spent so much time worrying about what Harold would do and he'd turned out to only be a scared, paranoid man and not whatever kind of authority she'd built him up to be in her mind.

“Fine by me.” Shaw got up from her chair. “But if we're staying here even semi-regularly we’re hiring a contractor to redo the bathroom.”

It was strange to remember that they could do things now without Samaritan breathing down their necks.

Shaw was sprawled out on the bed by the time Root finished in the bathroom, scowling at the ceiling.

“Something wrong?” Root asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. With the way Shaw was lying she'd have to basically climb on top of her to get in. Not that she had a problem with that. Lying on Shaw was probably more comfortable than the mattress.

“Feels like I didn't do anything all day. Reese got to have his dramatics and you got to go yell at Finch. I sat here and taught the Machine how to cheat at poker.”

“And I'm the bad influence?” Root turned and lay down on top of Shaw so her head rested against her shoulder.

Shaw resettled herself a little, getting comfortable. “Need to get numbers again soon. Shoot someone or something. Been idle for too long.”

“She actually had a thought about that.”

“The Machine did?”

“Training up some backup for ourselves. So it's not just us all the time and we can take some time off every now and then.”

“Dani and Harper.”

“And Claire.” Though she still wasn't thrilled about that.

“Forgot about her.” Shaw's hand had been trailing along Root's back and slipped below the waistband of her underwear, nails digging lightly into her ass.

“Getting the impression you're not thinking about her too much right now either.” Root murmured, pressing back into Shaw's touch. She was definitely enjoying how handsy Shaw was being today. Probably a side-effect of the boredom.

“Hmm, not so much.”

“Well, if John or Harold did have some sneak attack planned for tonight they'll only end up traumatizing themselves.” She scooted up a little so she could kiss Shaw.

“New rule,” Shaw said, coming up for breath. “No mentioning either of them in bed.”

“Good point.” She leaned back in with a smile.

She'd been so angry after her meeting with Harold earlier, but now…. The Machine was safe and free, John wasn't going to turn on Her, Samaritan was gone, Greer and Martine were dead, and Harold had failed. And she was here wrapped up in Shaw's arms feeling safer and more at peace than she ever had in her life.

“What?” Shaw asked when they broke apart again. “I can hear you thinking too much.”

“No, it's….” How did she explain it? “I think everything is going to be okay.”

Maybe not for forever, but she'd take it even for a little while.

Shaw’s eyes scanned her face for a second and then she nodded. “Think you might be onto something there.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw had to shove Root to the side a bit to get her arm free to pick up her phone.

“What?” She realized as she said it that she hadn't even bothered to look at the caller ID and had no clue who she was talking to.

“Shaw? Is this a bad time?”

“Hersh? Why the fuck are you calling me at--” She pulled her phone back to check the time. “--nevermind.” It was well after noon.

“I was asked to extend an invitation to you and your friends. A business meeting with Control.”

“Business.” She put as much contempt into the word as she could manage half-asleep. “What business could she possibly have with us?”

Root stirred a little on top of her but didn't wake up. Shaw wondered if she should try to slip out and finish the call in the other room.

“We got word that your employer is still alive.”

Shaw’s tired brain took a second to process that he meant the Machine. “Got word how?”

“It contacted us. But we were informed that for any further cooperation we had to go through you first.”

Shaw almost groaned. Why couldn't the stupid AI just handle the ISA herself? She didn't want to deal with them.

“We're on our way to New York as we speak. Would you be amenable to a meeting? Root as well, of course. And Reese if he wants to.”

She'd mostly be amenable to hanging up on him and going back to sleep, but….

“Fine. Where?”

“I can send you the address. It's a government owned office building, full of people and cameras. No cloak and dagger on this.”

“Hersh, if you wanted us dead badly enough you wouldn't hesitate to shoot us in the middle of times square.”

Her phone binged with a text message which she quickly checked and rolled her eyes at.

“...but under the circumstances…” Hersh was saying when she put the phone back to her ear.

“Okay, we'll meet you there. What time?”

“Three pm. I'll be waiting for you in the lobby.”

“Can't wait.” She hung up before he could say anything else.

“She says it's okay,” Root said sleepily, not even opening her eyes.

“Yeah, she sent me a text. She know what this whole thing is about?”

“They want the relevant numbers again, but the Machine wants us to be part of the deal.” Root burrowed her face into the side of her neck. “Go back to sleep. We have time.”

“I'm going for a run.”

She had to pry Root off to escape and, once she was up, Root curled up in the space she'd left and pulled the covers over her head. Shaw shook her head sadly. At least she was getting plenty of sleep these days.

Root still hadn't budged when Shaw got back from her jog and had to be poked and prodded until she got up. The sad excuse for a shower the subway had definitely wasn't big enough for two people so Shaw showered alone and left Root to get ready to go.

She expected her to be back in bed asleep when she finished her shower, but Root was awake and dressed and typing away on a laptop at the table.

“We're meeting up with Reese on the way. Also grabbing food.”

Having wet hair outside wasn't optimal with how cold it was, but they didn't have a hairdryer in the subway.

Shaw took a few minutes to quickly touch base with the Machine, get on the same page, and then dragged Root out into the cold after her.

Reese met them at the end of the block holding a greasy bag of baked goods and a cardboard tray of coffee. Peace offerings, Shaw guessed from his nervous expression.

Root favored him with one of her most bloodthirsty grins and Shaw got to witness John Reese, the tough, former assassin, retreat half a step before Root patted his arm reassuringly and accepted the coffee.

She was such a little shit.

“Are we sure this isn't a trap?” Reese asked as they made their way to the nearest subway station.

“No,” Shaw said at the same time Root said, “Yes.”

“Well, I'm glad that's settled.”

The subway wasn't too crowded for a...Shaw realized she had absolutely no clue what day of the week it was and really why did it even matter?

“Did you talk to Finch again?” she asked as she leaned against the subway door, hands wrapped around her coffee cup. There were plenty of free seats but only losers sat when they could lean against the door instead.

Reese was balancing the remaining food and drinks in his lap from the seats. “I sent a message to an email he gave me. No clue if he got it.” He looked over at Root who had one arm wrapped around the pole in the center of the car. “Your talk with him go okay?”

“It was lovely.” Root bared her teeth in another chilling smile.

She was wearing her stupid glasses today and somehow that just made her murder face hotter, Shaw thought.

They made it to their stop without anyone being murdered and ventured back out into the frozen city. Reese and Root lagged behind a bit, talking quietly, and Shaw left them to it. She'd rather they sort out any lingering issues now so she wouldn't have to deal with it later.

She came to a stop in front of a building and checked the address.

“This is us,” she said when they caught up.

“Hope the Machine is right about this,” Reese said.

“She wouldn't put us in danger.” Root had a slight, dreamy smile on her face that she got sometimes when the Machine talked to her. Shaw wondered if she was playing music for her and if so, what it meant.

“Let's get this over with.”

Hersh met them in the lobby.

“Shaw. Reese. Root. Good to see you're back on your feet.”

Shaw managed to pull him aside on their way to the elevator. “The stuff at the hospital. Thanks.” And that was more than enough meaningful conversation for one day so she immediately turned away before he could respond. When he looked like he was going to try to anyway she glared at him until he retreated.

The room Hersh led them to was a small office with three plain chairs facing a huge polished wood desk. Shaw snorted quietly at the attempted imposing setup before slouching into one of the chairs. Root sat next to her sliding her chair as close as possible, and Reese elected to lean against the back wall, staying on guard.

“She'll be here in a minute,” Hersh said, also leaning against the wall. Shaw wondered if he realized he and Reese looked like twins this way.

Control swept imperiously into the room a few minutes later and treated them all to a cold smile. Shaw wondered what their chances of getting out of the building alive would be if she just shot her between the eyes.

Root’s hand landed lightly on her leg and when she glanced up at her she shook her head slightly.

She hadn't _really_ been going to shoot Control. She'd just been enjoying the thought.

“I'm sure this is as unpleasant for all of you as it is for me,” Control said as she sat down behind the desk. “So let's get right to it.”

Shaw thought about making a comment along the lines of how it was unpleasant for them because she'd had them tortured, attacked, and killed, but unpleasant for Control because she didn't like having to ask them for anything. She restrained herself.

“We want the relevant numbers back. And considering the Machine is legally the property of the US government and you stole it from us, I can't imagine you'll have much of a problem with that.”

Starting out with a thinly-veiled threat meant she was super cranky. Shaw held back a smirk.

“The Machine doesn't belong to anyone,” Root said coolly. “Not us, and certainly not the government.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?” Control asked. “Who actually has the authority to...negotiate with it?”

“She's asked us to,” Shaw said. “And that's what this is: a negotiation. So knock off the amateur intimidation tactics and let's talk.”

Control narrowed her eyes. “Very well. What are your terms for returning the Machine to us?”

“That's not on the table,” Shaw said quickly before Root could go ballistic on her. As hilarious as that would have been it would only drag out this mess even longer.

“So what _is_ on the table then?” Sarcasm dripped from Control's voice.

Root might have been the one to discourage shooting her earlier but the look in her eyes now said she was seriously contemplating going to town with the taser Shaw had seen her grab on the way out of the subway.

“You get the numbers from the Machine, probably the same way you got them while you were playing footsie with Samaritan. We get immunity. One of us gets arrested, one phone call and we can walk out the door. No ISA teams showing up at our door. No ISA in the city at all unless we're notified in advance. And if we find out you've been trying to locate or attack the Machine, you'll be cut off for good.” Some of those terms she'd gotten from suggestions made by the Machine, and some of them she'd come up with on her own.

“You can't _claim_ an entire city. This isn't a gang war, Shaw. We don't have territory.”

“Remember when I said this was a negotiation?” Shaw asked. “Might have lied. Those are the terms. Take them or we walk.”

Control made a face like she'd bitten into a lemon.

“Also you have to apologize to Shaw,” Root added. “You know, for the whole killing her thing.”

Shaw blinked. That was something they hadn't discussed.

“Apologize?” Control asked as if they'd requested she dance naked in central park.

Shaw hadn't really wanted an apology but seeing how much the idea disgusted Control made it way more appealing.

“Give me a minute.” Control glared at all of them and swept out of the room leaving them alone with Hersh.

“This is the most fun I've had in weeks,” Reese said cheerfully from the back of the room. “Uh, no offense, Hersh.”

“None of my business,” Hersh said. “I follow orders, leave the grandstanding to others.”

Shaw remembered when that had been her. In some ways she missed the simplicity, but it was also nice to be more in control of the flow of things.

“An apology?” she asked Root. “Really?”

Root tapped a pattern on Shaw's thigh with her fingers, smiling at her. “You did once say she should give you a medal.”

“I was joking. And what about you? You too cool for an apology?”

Root shrugged. “Didn't want to push her too far.”

Shaw watched the fingers tapping on her leg. She’d figured out at some point that when Root did this she was actually keeping time to whatever music the Machine was playing for her. She wondered if she'd ever be able to figure out what the music was from Root's finger tapping.

Root must have noticed her watching because she stopped tapping and started inching her hand up Shaw's leg instead. Shaw rolled her eyes and intercepted the wandering hand before it could get anywhere inappropriate. Control's office was really not the time or place no matter how funny it would be to see her reaction.

Of course now she was basically holding Root's hand. Which had probably been Root's plan all along.

She sat there awkwardly until she heard the door opening and then carefully placed Root's hand back further down on a safe part of her leg and released it.

“Here's what I'm prepared to agree to,” Control said as she sat back down. “We will give you a courtesy 24 hour notice of ISA activity in the city, though you will not get mission or agent details. We won't go looking for the Machine unless it decides to vanish on us in which case the deal is over. And your immunity is granted within reason. There are certain things we won't condone and won't intercede on your behalf for. I can get you a list.”

That was actually better than Shaw had expected. She glanced over at Root.

“She's okay with that. Though that still leaves one thing.” Root gave Control a pointed look.

Control almost snarled at her. “Fine. Agent Shaw, I deeply regret my decision to order the termination of your life. You were a good agent and an asset to the program.”

Shaw smiled a little smugly. That had been more gratifying than she'd imagined, mostly because of the pained expression on Control's face.

“Now do we have a deal?” Control asked.

“You got yourself a deal.”

There wasn't much more to be said after that and Shaw was glad the no one insisted on hand shakes or something equally dumb. She breathed a sigh of relief when they got back to the lobby.

“You might want to have a representative to pass communications between us.” Hersh had followed them down. “Perhaps that woman, Janet?”

Janet? Shaw was about to ask who the fuck Janet was when Reese caught her eye and mouthed ‘Harper’ at her.

“Uh, right. We'll see if she's interested.” As long as Shaw didn't have to do it.

“Take care of yourself, Shaw.” Hersh gave them all a nod and disappeared back into the elevator.

“Janet? That was the best name she could come up with?” Shaw asked as they exited. It had started pouring while they were inside and Shaw resigned herself to being soaked.

“She _did_ get along with Hersh surprisingly well.” Reese pointed out.

“Better than one of us having to do it,” Root agreed.

And she'd been working for the Machine for quite a while now.

“Worth looking into then, I guess.”

“I recorded that apology,” Reese said as they fell into step on their way back.

“Seriously?” Shaw wondered what he was planning to do with it.

“I want a copy,” Root said immediately. Her hair was plastered to her head from the rain.

Of course she would. Root collected the weirdest things. Shaw had found that dumb glass bottle with the bullet slugs from the stock exchange tucked away in a drawer, wrapped up in a piece of cloth like it was a priceless delicate heirloom. She'd decided not to mention it.

Though that reminded her of something.

“So, uh, we've got somewhere to be,” Shaw said to Reese, preemptively poking Root so she couldn't ask where and ruin the whole thing.

“Don't let me stop you,” Reese said. “I need to get back to the precinct.”

She wondered when he was going to quit his job. It was almost like he'd grown fond of it.

Root hailed a cab for them (Shaw couldn't remember the last time they'd actually taken a cab instead of just stealing a car like normal people) and they escaped from the rain into it.

“She couldn't have told us to bring an umbrella?” Shaw grumbled.

“Weather prediction isn’t always accurate.” Root’s teeth were chattering. “Though maybe that's something She should look into changing.”

They didn't have enough time to dry out on the ride and they got soaked again on the brief run from the cab to the front door of Shaw's apartment building.

Shaw was barely inside the lobby when Root grabbed her arm and shoved her up against the nearest wall, pressing up against her and kissing her.

“You couldn't wait like five more minutes?” Shaw asked still cold from the rain.

“Really couldn't.” Root’s dumb glasses were fogged up from the rain. She kissed Shaw again, more deeply, making small contented noises.

Shaw wasn't going to argue too much and even if they were both still drenched from the rain, having Root up against her felt really nice.

It took her a few minutes to convince Root to disengage long enough to get them up to her apartment and inside, and the minute the door shut Root was all over her again.

Shaw ducked her head to avoid a kiss and Root paused to raise an eyebrow in question.

“Shower? Hot shower?” Shaw suggested because she was frozen from the rain and cold and she could feel Root shivering still.

“You always have the best ideas, sweetie.”

Some time later they ended up both crammed into the bathtub which was nowhere near as large or nice as the one at the cabin had been (Shaw added ‘ridiculously nice bathtub’ to her list of apartment requirements). Shaw was leaning against the back of the tub and Root was curled sideways lying on her chest with her head just below Shaw's chin. It was quiet and comfortable and made Shaw feel the same sort of warmth that she got from those adoring looks Root always favored her with.

“I don't think I ever thanked you for coming back for me,” Root said out of nowhere, wrapping a strand of Shaw's hair around a finger. “You know, that day when Control had me.”

“If I recall, you didn't need that much help. And you also told me I shouldn't have come.”

Root was silent for a second, focused only on playing with Shaw's hair. “I'm not sure what would have turned out differently if you hadn't come back. Like the Machine says, too many possibilities to ever know for sure. But selfishly, I'm glad that you did, despite everything.”

Shaw didn't know how to respond so she just tightened her arms around Root a little.

“I can't help but imagine how many different universes there are out there where things went wrong somewhere along the way. Where we never ended up here. The odds against this moment are probably astronomical. Why this world out of so many? What did we do to earn this?”

“This isn't something we earned. You're allowed to be happy, Root.”

She felt Root smile against her skin and neither of them said anything else. Root's phone (which had somehow ended up in the sink) started playing music from its speaker, a bit tinny, but recognizable.

Later Shaw could figure out how to deal with Harper and the other new recruits. Later she could figure out how Fusco was going to get Bear back to them without the dog getting completely drenched. Later (but not too much later) they could order chinese food for dinner so they didn't have to go out in the rain. Later she could get back to what it was that had made her hurry them back, the shirt she'd had Reese scour the city for while they were out of town, vibrant blue and almost identical to the one they'd cut off Root in the hospital.

But now with Root curled up against her in the warm water and music playing softly just for them, now she was right where she needed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole thing about how Samartian's nodes elect a new primary node is quite similar to how some databases work. 
> 
> I both did and didn't want to write Root's POV during her meeting with Finch, but decided that having him not say anything in the entire fic pleased me.
> 
> Next chapter will be the last one. An epilogue to wrap things up, no plot twists or emotional curveballs. 
> 
> You may have noticed I added this fic to a collection. I don't have any solid plans to write more for this universe, but I might possibly come back and do some side stories or one-shots at some point. So I made the collection as a thing people could subscribe to in case I did. No guarantees.


	43. Equilibrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I first thought of the name for this damn fic I had been planning to put the quote I got the title from at the top of the last chapter...as in the one before this epilogue...and I just flat out did not do that. alkjhskhfkjh. It's there now. Go back, look, pretend I did it earlier, move along, nothing to see here.
> 
> This chapter is the mostly unnecessary epilogue. The end of the last chapter was the ending I was working towards. This is kinda silly and pointless and I only added it to give a small look at how the near future might turn out for team machine. Leave your literary critic hat at home and enjoy it for what it is.
> 
> Also I haven't even typed the end notes as I'm writing this but I suspect they'll be long, so sorry in advance.

_"Chaos:_  
_When the present determines the future,_  
_but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future."_  
\- Edward Lorenz

 

* * *

 

Shaw paused before going down the steps to the subway. It was unusually warm for mid-May in the city, but not yet hot enough to be gross. In a couple weeks the humidity would kick in, going outside would become a chore, and the subway stations would become sweltering pits of death, but right now it was perfect outdoors weather. So of course she was heading into a windowless basement for the foreseeable future.

There'd been some changes to their hideout entrance. The vending machine was still there, though it was mostly unnecessary since Hersh knew where they were (and while he said he hadn't mentioned it to Control, Shaw was under no illusions that he wouldn't if she asked), but behind it was an impressive metal door that needed a keycode, a regular key, and the Machine to decide she liked you in order to get past. And even if someone got beyond that part, Root had rigged up some kind of electrical booby-trap on the other side that the Machine could use to fry unwanted guests.

Nothing said home sweet home like knowing your AI buddy could tase you for kicks.

The inside of the subway had changed a bit, too. There were a few ridiculously comfortable couches that Harper had talked the Machine into financing and Reese and Dani into carrying down the stairs. There were also more and better lights scattered around, a second table, a full-sized refrigerator (already full of possibly-expired leftovers), a disco ball hanging from the ceiling (Root's doing, though Shaw had yet to decide if it was a joke or if Root was really that bad at decorating (she had good reason to suspect this was the case)), an enormous dog bed for Bear that was arguably more comfortable than the couches (not that Shaw had taken a nap with Bear there or anything), and an unnecessary amount of electronics scattered everywhere. It felt more like a weird hipster startup than a hideout to Shaw now, but the team seemed to like it and she didn't give enough of a shit to protest.

The first thing she saw when she entered was Reese and Harper standing close together and peering down at something Harper was holding.

“You'd better hope he never sees this,” Reese said.

“Oh, he won't.” Harper sounded quite pleased with herself.

Shaw got close enough to butt in between them and discover that they were looking at a photo on Harper's phone. A photo of Hersh holding a german shepard puppy, his face contorted in some expression that could either be pain or happiness.

“Cute dog,” Shaw said. “Shame that Hersh is in the picture.”

“You know he asks about you every time I'm in Washington,” Harper pointed out, though she mostly looked amused.

“What do you tell him?”

“I make up something semi-cool.”

“Semi-cool?”

“Give me a raise and I'll have you busting perps with your bare hands on the rooftop of a flaming building.”

Shaw snorted. “I think you have me confused with Reese. I'd just snipe them from the next building over and avoid the flaming death trap.” Though she'd have to come up with a witty and hilarious thing to say after she shot them. Something about burning your bridges? Nah. She'd have to think about it, just in case.

“This is why Shaw makes the important decisions,” Reese said, fortuitously unaware of her thoughts.

“Anything new from D.C.?” Shaw asked Harper to try and move them along to important topics.

“Hmmm, Control is still angry about having to apologize to you, Hersh’s puppy is named Sprinkles, and apparently the Machine has taken up pranking ISA agents. Randomly turning the lights out, leaving passive-aggressive haiku on computers, changing tv channels.”

Shaw had no doubt that this was Root's influence. The biggest change she'd noted from the Machine after the safeguards were removed was that she'd developed a more concrete identity. And part of that identity was a bit of an asshole.

“So, business as usual.” Shaw turned to finally look at the other two occupants of the subway. All the way on the other side of the room, sitting at a table, Root and Claire hadn't even glanced up from their laptops.

Shaw moved over a little closer, not near enough to disturb them, but within earshot.

“This code looks like a drunken frat boy dropped his laptop down a stairwell.” The fact Root was wearing her blood-chilling smile and baring her teeth made the entire insult sound like a threat. “Just give me this.” She shoved Claire to the side and started typing furiously on her laptop.

Reese came over to join Shaw, a concerned expression on his face.

“When she used to talk to us about all the AI wars and database thingies and probability she was way more patient,” he said. “With you, at least. But she always did stuff like draw pictures or give examples to illustrate concepts. And she's not bad with Harper whenever they manage to stop trying to outdo each other for five seconds.”

Root had been the obvious choice to mentor Claire, but she'd ended up spending a lot of time on Harper as well. When it came to acting and manipulating (people hacking, as Root had once called it), Harper didn't need any pointers, but Root seemed determined to give her a crash course in computer security.

“Claire acts like an angry, dramatic kid half the time,” Shaw said. “Root does alright handling that. Doesn't put up with self pity.”

She'd gotten more progress out of Claire than anyone else (except the Machine) had been able to. And it was interesting to compare that to her training technique for Harper. Initially Harper had no interest in learning all of Root's ‘boring nerd nonsense’ as she'd called it, but after a week of frustration, Root had stopped trying to teach her the math and syntax and instead framed it like a puzzle. That plus some incredibly illegal demonstrations of what could be accomplished with the right skills had gotten Harper's attention.

“Also, Claire's already some computer whiz kid. Guess she holds her to a higher standard.” And Claire followed Root around like a lost puppy, which just made Root cranky. Shaw thought it was hilarious, which made Root even crankier.

“I have to go talk my way into a fortune 500 company office and convince the CEO to give me his safe combination,” Harper said as she joined them. “Some paperwork our computer boss lady wants in there. Shouldn’t take too long. You two need anything else?”

The business suit she was wearing did look a bit fancy now that Shaw noticed it. It felt like a lot of the jobs that involved assuming new identities that used to go to Root were going to Harper now.

“Have fun.”

“Try to keep collateral damage at a minimum,” said Reese, the grenade launcher enthusiast.

With Harper off to terrorize the one percent, and Reese hovering over Root’s condescending training session, Shaw was free to wander into the subway car on her own. The inside of the car had mostly remained untouched, but Reese had turned one corner into some kind of photo gallery of his cellphone pictures.

The majority of the photos were fairly recent, none earlier than the time they'd raided the Samaritan base for Root's code, and Shaw couldn't remember most of them being taken (other than the one that was a close-up of her palm shoved up against the phone which Reese had decided deserved a place on the wall). The pictures were all of the team (even some of Reese, courtesy of Zoe): Root petting Bear, Zoe smirking over the top of a hand of cards, Fusco and Reese both passed out on opposite ends of one of the couches, a shot of herself (that she actually didn't mind) holding a shotgun and looking nonchalant, that picture of Root using her lap as a pillow in the car that she'd taken down three times and kept reappearing, and about twenty random photos of Bear that she kept hanging over the most objectionable pictures.

Root had also started putting up pictures of random security cameras which she seemed to think was a terrific joke. Shaw hadn't asked the Machine what she thought about that because she didn't want to know if she'd been in on it.

“They gonna be busy for a while?” Shaw asked and then looked away from the pictures towards the monitors.

_There is a high likelihood that Root will run out of patience in approximately eight to ten minutes._

“Yeah, I didn’t need a fancy AI to be able to tell that.”

_You asked._

Shaw narrowed her eyes. Without intonation it was often hard to tell if the Machine was stating facts or being a cheeky brat.

“I'm actually surprised Root is still trying with her.” It wasn't that Claire was bad, she was actually quite good on the tech side even if she wasn't at Root's level, and after some target practice Shaw trusted her to not accidentally shoot herself or her team. But she was often difficult to get along with and didn't seem interested in anyone except Root and the Machine.

_Root is still trying for the same reason she doesn't enjoy trying._

Shaw nodded. Claire had an undercurrent of anger directed at the whole world which flared up at the worst times, and in addition her technical skills had given her an air of superiority. And somewhere under all of that was a lonely kid. No one enjoyed seeing themselves reflected in someone else like that, especially not Root.

_Also I told her she had to._

That made more sense.

“And why do you care?”

_Because you asked me to._

Shaw had almost forgotten that she'd been the one to ask the Machine to talk to Claire way back.

“And why Harper and Dani?”

_Dani is intelligent, resourceful, cares deeply about doing what's right. She has even learned to rely on another person to have her back, and to have their back in return. These are things I look for in potential assets._

“Dani was a good find,” Shaw agreed. She enjoyed working with her, and was trying to pass on to her the acquired skills of her years of experience in the ISA.

_Harper is clever, ambitious, independent but loyal, self-sufficient, erratic, and enjoyable to talk to._

“You can't keep collecting mini-Roots.”

_Why not? I would add that Dani is somewhat like you._

“Yeah and that ex-navy kid Reese basically adopted is a dumbass like him.” She hadn't even remembered Jack Salazar, one of the first numbers she'd worked with the team, until he'd shown up with Reese one day. She'd been a bit annoyed because Reese hadn't _asked_ her, but he was so damned determined to help the kid out that she hadn't gone off on him. Apparently the navy hadn't worked out for Jack and he'd come back to the city looking for a purpose in life. The Machine had led Reese to him.

He wasn't a bad addition to the team at all; he balanced out the other three well. He and Dani had fallen into an easy pattern on missions, he enjoyed Harper’s antics, and he wasn't put off by Claire’s moodiness.

_Are you displeased with the new recruits?_

“No, they're fine.” Even Claire, who had a tendency to stare at her and Root in awe whenever they were anywhere near each other. “Getting used to having more people around.”

_You miss the camaraderie of a smaller team._

“Sometimes,” Shaw admitted. “But it's nice to think we can skip town for a week if we want.” She couldn't remember when she'd started thinking in terms of ‘we’ and ‘us’ instead of ‘I’ and ‘me’, but the idea of going on vacation without Root felt like a waste now. What would be the point?

_You would trust them to work numbers without guidance?_

“Not yet, but eventually.”

Dani and Jack were already good enough in terms of fighting skills, and Harper and Claire might not be quite as good in a fight (though they were getting there), but were both capable of taking care of themselves. Also Zoe had taken a liking to Harper and seemed to be grooming her as some type of protégé, so Shaw figured she was now extra capable of getting herself and the others out of trouble without resorting to a gunfight.

_Did you need anything in specific from me today?_

“No. Didn't want to get pulled into Root's teaching session.”

_I see. You are hiding in here._

Jerk.

“Strategically relocating myself.”

_Of course. My mistake._

“You keep blaming me for Her sarcasm, but I think She sounds more like you.”

Shaw turned to find Root leaning against the doorway of the subway car, watching them with a fond smile.

“Don't try to blame this on me.” She looked past her out into the subway, but it was empty now. “Where'd Claire and Reese run off to?”

“He took her to the shooting range. Said something about positive reinforcement, but I wasn't really listening.”

That didn't surprise her one bit.

“You done for the day then?”

“I can be. Why?” Root perked up. “You have something in mind?”

“Nothing in particular. Was going to head home.” They'd all been busy lately with new numbers, training the recruits, Root running errands for the Machine, other various odds and ends, and even though they went back to the same apartment every night it still felt like she hadn't seen Root in a bit. Not that she'd _missed_ her, but it was different without her around.

Root beamed like Shaw had said something deeply meaningful to her. “Let me grab my things and then I'm all yours.”

Shaw watched her hurry back towards the table with her laptop. All the frenetic energy she remembered from before the whole Samaritan mess had returned to her. A somewhat more stable life and actually sleeping and eating regularly agreed with her.

Nothing was perfect, though. There were still the occasional nightmares, infrequent and less severe, but persistent. Once every month or two she'd wake up to find the other side of the bed empty and Root sitting by herself out in the living room, far away inside her head. And since she never knew what to say she'd just go over and sit next to her with a book or something until she came back from wherever she'd disappeared to and slumped over on Shaw, staying like that until gently bullied back to bed.

But on the whole, things were much better. And even if Shaw still had to forcibly remove her from her laptop to get her to go to bed some nights, it was because she was lost in trying to work out some coding puzzle and not because she was working herself to death to try and protect them from Samaritan.

“Ready when you are.”

Root was back in the doorway, and Shaw noticed her shirt for the first time: a fairly plain t-shirt which had ‘ID-10T error’ emblazoned on the front. Shaw thought she saw a running theme with the shirts these days (a few days ago she'd worn a shirt that said ‘PEBKAC’ which Shaw had to look up on her phone). She suspected this was all some kind of passive aggressive protest over having to teach others.

They locked up the subway behind them and headed back out into the suspiciously pleasant weather.

“You off on more Machine errands this week?” Shaw asked with attempted casualness.

“Why? Do you miss me when I'm gone, sweetie?” Root looked smug.

“Ugh, don't be ridiculous.” She glared at her to let her know how wrong she was.

“I missed you, too,” Root said quietly, and then quickly went on. “It's a little early for dinner, but I skipped lunch. Want to grab something on the way home?”

“Have to be take-out. Fusco is bringing Bear over soon.”

Root's elbow bumped against hers from time to time as they walked, a small form of physical contact that was minimally intrusive, and Shaw moved a tiny bit closer because she knew stuff like that meant something to Root. And sure enough her whole damn face lit up as if Shaw had just done something deeply sappy and romantic.

“What're you in the mood for?” Shaw asked and then immediately realized her mistake. “I mean, to eat.” Okay, that had only made it worse. Root’s evil grin was so wide her face had to be hurting. “ _Food_ , Root. You perv.”

“I'll take whatever you're offering, Sameen.”

Shaw just rolled her eyes.

 

* * *

 

“What're you doing back here?”

Fusco’s greeting wasn't quite the warm welcome Reese felt was merited, but oh well.

“On my way uptown to help Zoe out with something. Had a few minutes to kill so I thought I'd say hi.”

Fusco hadn't stopped helping with the numbers, but he'd been buried in work lately and hadn't been by the subway as much.

“Where’re the trouble triplets today?” That was Fusco’s nickname for Claire, Harper, and Jack. Dani wasn't included because….

“You giving my partner a hard time, Reese?” Dani Silva strolled over and sat down at the desk across from Fusco.

“Every time he shows up at my door it ends up with me up to my neck in trouble.” Fusco didn't sound too angry, only his normal level of disgruntled grumbling. Having a partner who actually did their job had put him in a better mood.

“Relax, Lionel, this is only a social call. And to answer your question, Harper is off running an errand, and Jack and Claire are at the shooting range.” He'd been headed there with Claire himself but Jack had offered to go instead.

“Don't suppose you came to take this guy off my hands?” Fusco motioned at where Bear was lying on the floor next to his chair.

“Thought you were supposed to take him by Root and Shaw's?” He still felt a little odd every time he talked about their joint apartment, but even Shaw couldn't deny that she and Root lived together now. He'd actually gotten officially invited to their new apartment, which was solely Root's doing. It had mostly been a very nice place. Root's decorating tastes had given him a headache, but at least they were confined to her bedroom.

“Yeah, but nutter butter always makes things weird.” Fusco made a face and Dani chuckled.

Reese had been on the receiving end of many of Root's attempts to make things weird so he had some sympathy, but not enough to take Bear over himself.

“You're on your own with this one.”

“Thanks a bunch. Maybe you could at least tell her to stop getting arrested?”

“Root got arrested?” That was news to him.

“Twice this month. Once with Shaw.” Dani didn't even look up from her computer as she announced this.

“Do I want to know why?”

“Some sleazebag in a bar slapped Shaw on the ass,” Fusco explained. “The ladies almost tripped over each other trying to be first to pummel him. Then the guy’s friends got involved. By the time the patrol car got there they'd wrecked half the bar.” Fusco shook his head. “Not that I can blame them. Oh, they also got out of their handcuffs halfway back, and somehow ended up handcuffed together instead.”

The last part was undoubtedly Root's doing. Reese wondered if beating up drunk assholes for sexual harassment fell under the list of acceptable offenses on Control's get out of jail free card.

“They never invite me to the fun stuff,” he said sadly. He hadn't been in a bar brawl in _months_. “What happened to the guy?”

Dani pursed her lips. “Funny thing about that. We found him stripped to his boxers and hanging upside down from a traffic light in midtown. Somehow not a single camera in the area had footage of who put him there.”

Even the Machine was getting to have more fun than he was. “Don’t suppose you know how they got him up there?”

“Not exactly,” Dani said. She was grinning now. She'd clearly been spending way too much time with Shaw and had picked up her often-malicious sense of humor. “But someone _did_ steal a fire truck in that area right around the same time.”

Fusco had a pained expression on his face. “I almost miss the old days where we had to hide from an evil AI all the time.”

“Wait until you hear about what they were doing in the holding cell when the officer came to let them out,” Dani said cheerfully.

Reese held up a hand to stop her. “That's quite okay.”

“Hey, is glasses still in the city?” Fusco asked. “Never did get to see him.”

Reese wasn't sure how much to say.

“No, he was here for a little bit, but, uh, he left again.”

“Things not work out with his lady friend?”

“Guess not.” Also he'd tried to track down their subway base and Shaw had gone to have a chat with him. Reese wasn't sure what that conversation had entailed but he figured he was better off not knowing. He was hurt that Finch hadn't told him where he’d gone this time, but maybe he'd see him again someday. He wasn't going to go running off looking for him this time; he had a life here now, people and responsibilities he wouldn't leave.

It was weird how much had changed so quickly in his life. A year or two ago he wouldn't have thought twice about walking in front of a bullet with someone else's name on it, and while he would still do whatever it took to protect others, maybe he'd spare a few thoughts for himself in the process. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder he’d set so he wouldn't be late.

“I need to head out,” Reese said, backing away. “Catch you two later.”

The bar brawl story was stuck in his mind now. Root and Shaw with no threat of Samaritan hanging over them were a force to be reckoned with. At least they were having fun, he thought as he went back out to the street. And they were both really good with the new recruits. Well, Shaw was anyway.

And now he had a great story to tell Zoe when he saw her.

He hailed a cab and headed uptown.

 

* * *

 

Root opened her eyes to see Shaw's face peering at her from only inches away, strands of hair plastered to her face with sweat, and her body warm and solid on top of her.

“Think I almost blacked out that time,” Root admitted.

“Almost?” Shaw sounded pleased with herself.

“Mmm, definitely an almost. You’re welcome to try again though.” She was hoping the Machine didn't call her on the blatant lie.

Shaw snorted and muttered something that sounded like ‘brat’ under her breath as she crawled off of her and stretched out on the other side of the bed.

They were in Shaw's room like usual. Shaw complained that the loud, clashing color schemes in Root's room killed the mood for her so by default they ended up in here. This room was minimalistic, much like Shaw's loft had been, but not to the point that it overlooked comfort. The mattress was ridiculously nice, the sheets were soft and way too expensive, and even though Root had her own closet in her room, some of her shirts had found their way in among Shaw's things.

After taking a few more seconds to recover, Root rolled onto her side and propped her head up on one arm. Shaw was sprawled on her back, eyes half-shut, eminently peaceful.

“You taking a nap, sweetie?”

“Well, you just did.”

She was never living that down apparently, though it was hardly the first time either of them had blacked out.

She’d asked the Machine the other day if She thought Shaw was content with her current life; it wasn't the sort of question Shaw would want to answer, so Root had been hoping the Machine could give her a scientific conclusion.

Her answer had simply been to play Shaw's music, and then, after a second, add in Root's, and then Her’s, and Reese’s, until it was too many parts to pick out any one theme. And even if the cacophony didn't fit together quite the way just their two songs did, it was still rather nice.

She hoped the Machine was correct about her assumptions, that Shaw felt like she fit into this life. She certainly appeared to when she was leading the team. She might never have wanted to be in charge, but it suited her well and Root loved watching her handle things. And when it was herself, Shaw, and the Machine all working together….

“You're at it again with the creepy staring, aren't you?” Shaw's eyes were shut all the way now.

“What should we call what you were doing a minute ago?”

“Congratulating myself.”

Root poked her in the side for that. And _she_ was the one who’d turned the Machine into a smartass?

When Shaw failed to look even slightly remorseful, Root slid over so she could crawl on top of her, lazily pin her down, and start kissing and biting an almost gentle path down the side of her neck.

“I'm gonna fall asleep like this,” Shaw said, and Root could hear the smirk in her voice so she bit down especially hard and was rewarded with a satisfied moan.

“That better?” she asked right in Shaw's ear.

“You got a long way to go if you wanna even up the score tonight.”

“Good thing I've got nowhere to be tomorrow.”

“Ugh. Tomorrow.” Shaw tapped her on the side. “Get up a minute.”

Root reluctantly moved back to the mattress and lounged on the bed while Shaw got up. At least she got a great view this way.

“I gotta do a favor for Zoe tomorrow,” Shaw explained over her shoulder as she padded out of the bedroom.

She didn't work for Zoe anymore, but she still lent her a hand every now and then for old time's sake.

Root slid off the bed to follow her. If Shaw was wandering around naked than she had a duty to stare at her appreciatively. It would have been wrong not to.

She passed the closed door of the laundry room on the way down the hall. While it still housed a washer and dryer, they'd turned it into a fancy doggy room for Bear as well. He was currently banished there until they finished with their recreational not-dog-friendly activities.

Shaw was rummaging through a duffel bag of guns in the living room so after a second of dutiful admiration of Shaw crouched down naked handling weaponry, Root ducked briefly into her own room. Unlike Shaw's sparsely-furnished, pristine room, Root's room was packed full of all sorts of miscellaneous knick-knacks. Her shag rug and lava lamp had finally made the journey from the subway, and she'd added to that a beanbag chair, a strand of holiday lights along one wall, and a plasma globe.

Shaw had gotten in the habit of shutting her eyes before entering, which was dangerous considering the mess of cables that ran across the floor like a giant web. Root was quite pleased with the effect.

Even if most nights they both slept in Shaw's bed, having a space to herself to do whatever she wanted with was nice and also meant Shaw could have time to herself without Root having to sleep on the couch. It worked out well for them both.

She grabbed an oversized shirt off a chair and pulled it on before venturing back out to find Shaw.

“Think that should be it.” Shaw finished moving weapons from the large duffel bag into the smaller day trip duffel bag.

“Is Zoe planning a hostile takeover of the government?” Root asked, eyeing the amount of firearms Shaw had selected. “And if so can I tag along?”

“No. Fancy brunch of some sort. Thinks there might be some trouble though.”

“Sawed-off shotgun level of trouble?” She hoped Zoe wasn't in real trouble, partly because she rather liked her, and partly because she'd let her stash her still-secret-from-Shaw stolen horse at the place she'd finally gotten upstate.

“Can't be too careful.” Shaw looked up at her. “Why'd you put a shirt on?”

“Obviously so you could enjoy taking it off me.” She toyed with the edge of the long shirt and bit her lip at Shaw.

Shaw took her time zipping up her bags before standing up and running her eyes over Root speculatively. “You look like a total nerd, you know.”

Her shirt might have had a large π on it and said ‘I'm irrational’ under it. “Good thing you're into nerds.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and backed her up against a wall, her hands sliding up her thighs and under the hem of the shirt.

“Although,” Root continued, leaning into Shaw, “I could stand to have you a little more... _in_ to me.”

Shaw just shook her head and groaned.

Root was trying to come up with another quality line but was interrupted by Shaw's hands doing something deeply distracting that made her shut her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall with a quiet moan.

They eventually ended up back in Shaw's bed where they passed out for the night (though only after freeing Bear from his room so he could sleep with them) and didn't wake up until the alarm went off the next morning.

Root stubbornly kept her eyes shut since she could tell it was still indecently early and that it was most likely Shaw's jogging alarm that had gone off. But when a few minutes after the alarm stopped Root still hadn't felt the bed move to indicate Shaw getting up, she finally opened one eye.

Shaw hadn't fallen back asleep, but she hadn't gotten up either. Root frowned. She never skipped her morning runs.

“Sameen?” She could tell her voice sounded slurred and sleepy.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Shouldn't you be out doing that horrible thing you pretend to enjoy?” She yawned and blinked a few times, waking up a bit more. Shaw was lying on her side, watching her. Somewhere near the foot of the bed she felt Bear’s tail thump against the mattress a few times, happy to hear his humans but also too tired to get up.

“Exercise, Root. It's called exercise. And I decided to take the morning off.”

“Why?”

Shaw’s mouth twitched a little though whether it was a smile or a frown Root couldn't tell. “Go back to sleep, Root.”

She was too tired to argue so she nodded and shut her eyes again. The Machine was already playing soft music for her and she rolled over onto her side to curl up and burrow into the covers. A second or two later she felt the bed shift and when she turned her head to look over her shoulder, Shaw had slid almost all the way over towards her. Root fought down a smile and inched back, meeting her halfway. And then Shaw was pressed up against her back, arms tentatively sliding around her.

“Guess you did already get a workout last night,” Root murmured with a sleepy smile.

“Will you just go to sleep already?” Shaw sounded amused.

Root curled back into the warmth of Shaw's body and they both drifted off together in the early morning light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so yeah. Fade to black. Credits roll. Been a hell of a ride. I don't think the fact I finished writing this has sunk in yet...I'll probably wake up at 4am and go wait a minute wtf...
> 
> Yep, end note got long, but I just spent over a year writing this so humor me.
> 
> Call out to reader AsheWottlin for reminding me that Jack Salazar was potential Reese jr. I'd totally forgotten about him and he really is perfect for the role, thank you for that.
> 
> Two big thanks to go out... First thank you goes to my good friend [jenocide](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenocide). We watched season 5 together when it aired and went through that whole mess which led to my several-weeks-long rant (which she got to sit through...there were like diagrams and chat logs and bullet points...sorry about that jen) that turned into the first draft of the first chapter of this story. Honestly half the things I post would never see the light of day without her telling me they didn't suck. 
> 
> Second thank you to my brother who will probably never read this but was an invaluable source of random knowledge and was always game for me bouncing ideas off him about theoretical AI stuff. While he may never read this, he knew all my random questions were for a fanfic I was writing and was very supportive and enthusiastic about the whole thing. Nerd siblings are the best.
> 
> Lastly, future stuff.... A few weeks ago, I wrote a rough first chapter of what I've been referring to as my person of interest space western au and [posted it on tumblr](http://asleepinawell.tumblr.com/post/161214062534/neon-and-dust). I'm hoping to write more of that in the future (it would be on ao3 if I did so) so keep an eye out if that's your cup of tea. I also did two short character studies for Root and Shaw that I posted here on ao3 in a fic called [Spaces](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11028210/chapters/24578955) so you can check that out if you're bored. And finally, as I mentioned in the last chapter's notes, I added this to a collection so that if I ever do anything else in this universe there's an easy way to get notified.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's commented, left kudos, sent me messages, or even just quietly read. Without the interest and enthusiasm from all of you I never would have finished this.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------
> 
> associated Feedback Loops chapter: [Concord](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/28676544) A bunch of vignettes from over the course of the story from Reese's pov. Rated T.
> 
> Feedback Loops chapter that isn't really associated with this chapter, but takes place after the ending: [ Fading Scars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11416974/chapters/31581378) . Rated E.
> 
> \-----------------------
> 
> Since I originally finished writing STC, I've added a bunch of additional content in other works in the Chaos Theory collection. If you're looking for what to read next, here's what the other works are:
> 
> Feedback Loops: One-shot fics that are deleted or inserted scenes from STC. Mostly smut. They're all linked from the end notes of their associated chapter in STC so you may have been reading them this whole time. Otherwise you can read the entire fic now. Still being updated.
> 
> Upwards Spiral: A one-shot what if scenario for Carter having been around for the events of STC.
> 
> Approximate Futures: One shot fics that come after STC. Mostly funny, light-hearted stuff. Still being updated.
> 
> Edge of Chaos: Six chapter short story set after STC that I wrote for Shootweek18.


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